#to be fair there are a LOT of volcanoes around here

[chocosvt]

HER | part four.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.5k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s! 

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that! 

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

here we goo. part four :o i can't believe it's already the fourth part!! i guess the last chapter ended on somewhat of a cliffhanger so may this quench your curiosity! but, beyond that...

this part has a punch of its own... dotdotdot...

⇢ part one | part two | part three | part five | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

Wonwoo was lucky to discover an empty, spare guest bedroom down an off-shooting hallway for you two to refuge in while the volcano settled upstairs. Furthermore, he was grateful that you had relaxed enough to be released from his straightjacket arms, and even more grateful the room was quiet. The confrontation had shot his nerves. His hands were still trembling. As you took a seat on the bed, Wonwoo moved toward the window and stared into his darkly silhouetted reflection, taking paced breaths until everything stopped pressing down on him. He’d already had his fair share of stalling fights between Vernon and other drunks at the downtown bars.

He had never anticipated stopping you from a fight. 

“Fuck, I feel like absolute shit…” you groaned, and when Wonwoo turned around, he saw you crunched up, fingers digging at your hair while you sat at the very edge of the primly dressed bed.

“Should I get you anything?” He asked in a soft voice, coming over to crouch down in front of you. “Do you want some water?”

You wouldn’t look at him, instead staring into your knees that were bent and flush against your chest. For a moment, there was nothing said, until you sniffed that very distinctive sniffle of someone who’d just snorted a line. Rubbing at your nose, you nodded.

“Please?”

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Wonwoo didn’t know where to get water, though he did remember the bottle dropped at the bottom of the staircase. He practically ran to grab it. Coming back into the spare room, Wonwoo clicked the door shut as quietly as possible and joined you at the bed.

“Here,” he offered, uncapping it for you.

You sipped from it eagerly, gulp after gulp, then wiping off your lips when it became too cumbersome to swallow.

He took the bottle back, capping it again and throwing it somewhere random on the bed. Wonwoo could see with concern that you weren’t entirely there—jaded, from the drinking and smoking and intaking a dangerous substance you probably shouldn’t have. Your face appeared so hazy, disconnected, as though you were staring off into a warm light buried in the distance that only presented itself to you.

“That was a lot, wasn’t it?” Wonwoo sighed into the dark room, rolling up his sleeves, unsure of what he should do or even say.

You sniffled again, and shook your head. “I feel sick.”

“I know, I’m sorry... what do you want to do?”

Breathing out heavily at the small amount of labour it required to look backward at the bed, you nodded. “I want to lie down.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo said, feeling relieved, “that’s a good idea.”

You smiled at him, though it was misted over and a bit loopy. 

He watched you lean down, fiddling with the tiny buckle belonging to the right heel strapped over your foot. Afraid you might hit the floor like a flour sac if you stayed hunched over for too long, he instantly squatted down to help you, gently nudging your hand away.

“I’ll take them off for you,” Wonwoo reassured, loosening the buckle enough to slide the expensive, black heel from your foot, doing so with the utmost delicacy, akin to sorting fine china.

Just before he removed the other heel, Wonwoo caught you staring down at him with a particular admiration behind those glassed eyes that made his entire chest become swollen. He tried to ignore the feeling, no matter how elated it made him on the inside.

“Thank you.”

“Uh, no problem,” Wonwoo answered, standing up and gesturing to the bed, “do you think you’ll take a nap?”

“… I don’t know.”

“That’s okay… should I get Princess to come stay with you? Or, I can always get Mingyu, too. Whatever you think is best.”

You were still looking back at the guest bed, unresponsive, and Wonwoo had wondered if you even heard him speak. The moonlight that cascaded in from the windows patched an intricate shadow overtop the quilt, and you started spreading your hand across it, as though you could pick up the silhouette and move it.

And then you glanced at Wonwoo again, smiled slightly. “Would you lay down with me… if I asked you?”

He immediately cleared his throat, “uh, lay down with you?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, “I need your company. Please?”

He clenched his fist tight, an index nail carving along the cuticle of his scarred thumb. Logically, Wonwoo should leave—he should march back upstairs and go search for Mingyu or Princess to help nurse you through your brain fog. Realistically, however, Wonwoo wasn't going to do any such thing. Realistically, Wonwoo was very high, and very delirious, and completely at your beckon.

Kicking off his sneakers, Wonwoo crawled onto the guest bed alongside you. He breathed out a sigh of comfort as his back was perfectly cushioned by the supple pillows organized against the headboard. If he thought about it for too long—relaxing on a stranger’s bed in a stranger’s home at two or three in morning beside a girl who’d just snorted coke upstairs in the attic and nearly leapt on her friend in a fight—his head would start to ache. So, Wonwoo didn’t think about it. He let everything happen as it naturally desired to.

You tucked yourself close against Wonwoo, closer than what was appropriate for two people who were presumably friends, stretching your leg across his waist and latching it over his hip, an arm around his wide chest, your head settled cozily underneath his chin.

He couldn't care less about the morality.

Especially when he wriggled his arm beneath you, his knuckles coming to stroke up and down your bare, soft back, feeling along the subtle groove of your spine with every lulling, especially tender caress. Truly, Wonwoo didn’t know why he cared so remarkably little about how wrong it was to touch you and hold you. Maybe it was your shallow and warm breathing that kept tickling his neck, or the weight of your leg against his pelvis—you as a whole seemed to smudge his rationality—his own personal drug.

“Can you please tell me a story?”

“Hm?” Wonwoo murmured, stilling his fingertips at the top of your shoulder blade. “Tell you a story? Why’s that?”

“Because, my head hurts. And I want a distraction.” You then poked your face up from his neck, staring at Wonwoo through the clouds in your eyes, sounding sleepy enough to lose consciousness. “And I love the sound of your voice, and how it makes me feel.”

He proceeded to rub something off your chin with a few brushes from his thumb, and nodded, tucking your head back down.

“Okay… let me think for a second...”

“Wait—” you suddenly mumbled, awkwardly reaching behind you for his hand rested against your shoulders, “—I liked when you were going up and down. It felt good. Please, can you do some more?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just stopped to think,” Wonwoo hummed with an amused smile, continuing to stroke his knuckles and hearing the heavy sigh you breathed aloud.  

He thought a few moments longer for a story that he could tell you; something interesting, but not too detailed.

“I’ve got one.”

He made a rumbling noise in his throat to clear it, staring off at the dresser mirror opposite to the bed, where Wonwoo could just decipher that vague, silvery thread outlining your entangled bodies.

“When I was around eleven, twelve years old, my family used to go to this waterpark every summer, like an hour car ride from our house. My brother and I made up this game. We called it lifeguard, or, like, swimming attendant. Basically, you play dead in the water, and whoever’s the attendant has to save you. Anyway, it was a pretty stupid fucking game to play at a water park as you can imagine. But when we got there, the lifeguard wasn’t in his chair. So, like, my brother, trying to be cool or funny, thought it would be a good idea to sit in the chair himself. I had to pretend to drown.

The problem with that, though—the actual life guard was coming back. He sees me pretending to drown, thinks I’m actually drowning—I don’t know, I guess I was selling it super well—and he dives right into the water, pulls me out and everything, lies me across the cement all surgical like. I’m so fucking embarrassed, my brother’s ran off somewhere—I just go along with it while everyone’s watching, knowing damn fucking well I’m a sham. My mom’s panicking. She didn't realize it was part of some idiotic game we made up. I hated my brother for a week straight. I’ve refused to swim ever since.”

There was a chuckle against his neck, and Wonwoo felt your body vibrate with a soft fit of laughter. He hadn’t recalled that story in years, though it dusted off the latent anger toward his older brother that he had never quit holding. Nonetheless, it was still rewarding to tell you. That water park was once his most cherished place to visit, admittedly during a much different period in his life, when the only thing he worried over was whether or not they’d have his favourite ice cream flavour or if he might miss that gigantic bucket full of freezing water that dropped every half-hour.

“I’m sorry that happened…” you mumbled against his neck, your breath akin to a sweeping feather, “but it’s a bit funny.”

“No, I know,” Wonwoo agreed, grazing his hand low to the base of your back, “I can laugh at it now... even if I’m still mad.”

“Can I ask you something, please?”

“Sure.”

“I just want to know… when did you move here? Did you come here for university? Or, was it before that? And, like… did your family come with you? Did you move alone? I’m just curious…”

“So, I spent two years at a university in Korea, for something different than what I’m doing now. It was accounting stuff—”

“Oh, more boring.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo laughed, reaching his hand underneath the warm plump of your thigh to adjust it more comfortably against his hip, “I actually agree with you. It was boring, and I was… to put it lightly, miserable. Very, very miserable. So, I dropped it, had a really long and excruciating conversation with my brother about the whole thing—what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go. I have an uncle that lives out here. Not close to our school. He’s hours away. But I figured, I’m old enough. I need, just—I need a fucking change. I’ll move out, stay with him, find my footing. And, uh, I ended up here.”

You smiled against his skin, lips practically pressed at his neck, and then you exhaled, pulling a shiver along the length of his spine.

“Hm… I’m glad you made that choice.”

Wonwoo’s fingers fleshed deeper against the underside of your thigh as he sighed into the still bedroom air, thinking back to the pressure, the bickering between himself and his parents, the desire to at last pull the pin and take a risk, even if said risk was going to crash and humiliatingly burn at his feet. In a way, it had. But with you, his reward was building back up again. It wasn’t all fruitless.

“Me too.”

"Thanks for sharing that with me,” you murmured, snuggling impossibly closer into his body and breathing him in like the sweet, baked scent of pastries fresh from a hot oven, or the airy honeysuckle outside on a summer’s day. “I like knowing about you.”

For once, Wonwoo wasn’t scared that you knew.

Maybe he should be scared. He wasn’t being cautious enough, instead pouring more soul into his heart than his logic. But then—why did it feel so good in that moment? Something he was terrified of had flipped on its head and turned into a real, tangible happiness. He continued to lay with you in the silence. The ceiling was full of shadows that he studied to keep himself awake while his thumb rubbed easy circles into your thigh. Your body was giving him heat.

If no one ever opened that door, Wonwoo wouldn’t complain.

He could lay there until the earth caved in.

“Wonwoo?”

“Mm?”

“I want to try getting up now.”

Rubbing the heel of his palm against his eye, he massaged away the desire for sleep that had finally managed to catch up to him.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay—” he began slowly pushing himself upward, helping you in the process with an arm at your waist, “—I’ll grab your shoes.”

“Thank you.”

Nonetheless, he knew you couldn’t stay cocooned against him forever, even if he wanted it more than his next breath. It felt awfully vapid to lose your warmth. The air around him was so much colder, like an icy metal. Wonwoo had nearly stumbled over his sneakers as he searched around the end of the bed, prompting him to squat down and shove his shoes back on. Next, he collected your lacquered, expensive high heels, which had practically blended into the darkness if not for the moonlight raining through the windows.

You were sat at the edge of the blankets, waiting for him.

“How do you feel? Better?” Wonwoo asked while crouching at your knees and fishing up the right heel first.

“My head still hurts a little. But I think I’ll be fine,” you admitted, allowing Wonwoo to softly touch at the back of your ankle as he helped guide your foot through the black loop. “It’s like—I can feel it a lot more now. I’m getting that weird, dreamy sensation, right before it really hits. And my mouth is kinda dry.”

“Hm,” Wonwoo hummed, now helping to fasten on the other heel, “I’m sure there’s more water upstairs. Is that too tight?”

You wriggled your toes and rolled your foot.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

“Should we try standing?”

Wonwoo straightened back up, reaching out his hand for you to grab. Carefully, you intertwined your fingers with his, and then he accepted some of your weight as he gave you a supportive tug. At first, you wobbled, but Wonwoo was right there to steady you.

You complained about the dizziness, but after a few more steps it had gotten better, and Wonwoo let go of your hand.

“Oh—uh,” he gently grasped your elbow, “before you leave—”

Lifting up your arms, you watched rather cluelessly while Wonwoo pinched at the fabric of the very short, white skirt and tugged it further down your thighs, covering the sensitive areas where it had ridden up when you were stretched out against him. A hand latched into his shoulder for balance, and you sighed out gratefully.

“Fuck, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Please don’t tell me if you saw my underwear.”

He laughed, “I won’t.”

A manicured finger scratched your cheek.

“… They’re pink… with hearts.”

Wonwoo stayed quiet, but then he couldn’t fight his smile.

“… I know. Cute.”

You seemed flustered at the offhanded comment, which came as a surprise to Wonwoo, because he truthfully didn’t believe much—if anything at all—could fluster you. The phone in his back pocket buzzed with a text message and Wonwoo assumed it was Vernon asking him about where he’d gone. It was best to go back up to attic and reunite with your friends rather than dwell in the guest bedroom for an eternity. Though, Wonwoo didn’t want to leave at all.

“Uh, Wonwoo? Can you please wait one second?”

As you two paused at the door, his hand fell off the knob.

“Everything okay?”

Uncharacteristically, you fumbled with your fingers, tugging at the joints like they were disconnectable. He tilted his head at you, curious, and when your eyes locked with his he bit back a dumb facial expression at how wide your pupils had dilated, like an ocean abyss.

“Um, so, that girl Seokmin was talking about earlier? Sarah Gomez?” Sarah? He knew you meant Sierra, though he didn’t bother correcting the mistake. “I chatted to Vernon about it. He said she likes you and was flirting and... well, like, I-I have no issue if you… if you like her and want to do something, and—” you took in a really big, long breath that felt like a reach for self-comfort, “—just, if you two want to start hanging out, if you can still make time for our writing.”

Wonwoo stared at you for a second, blinking vacantly.

“… Oh, you think—no, Her. It’s not anything. It’s nothing."

“Nothing?”

“Yeah, nothing. I promise.”

And it was exactly that. Wonwoo would never—could never feel anything even half as strong as the yearning he felt for you. It was something unmeasurable, something bigger than the universe, and yet, it fit into the core of his own chest like a dense and heated star compacting in on itself. Despite being so numbed by heartbreak, and years of a growing apathy, and all that disappointment he harboured toward himself, Wonwoo had sensed each and every time you thawed him out. You—a light, and yet a cold, awakening breeze.

The girl he was in love with.

Stupidly and utterly in love with.

Your shoulders began to sink as you relaxed at his remark.

Wonwoo shook his head. “She’s nice. But I’ve talked to her once, and that was tonight, for like, two minutes at most.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry. I just—I didn’t want you to think that I hated it, or that I was going to jump her ‘cause of what happened upstairs… I don’t want to talk about what happened upstairs, actually, but that’s not what—anyway. Sorry. And, uh, thank you… for being there for me. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“No, no. Nothing is ruined,” Wonwoo reassured you, picking up your hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m having fun. It’s all a lot but… I’m enjoying it. I’m always going to be here for you, alright?”

You smiled at him. It was oddly shy, but Wonwoo loved it.

“So, if you want to head back up, I’ll join you soon enough," he said. "I’m gonna attempt to find a washroom in this place.”

“There’s one by the staircase. Clara and Bells used it.”

He kissed his teeth as you giggled at him.

“… Oh. Right.”

After you disappeared back upstairs to the attic, Wonwoo locked himself in the washroom for a moment of quiet. He checked his phone, realizing the time—3am—in addition to the horribly spelt text messages from Vernon, saying that Mingyu had taken Bells on a walk outside to calm her down. He sighed, signing off on the texts with a thumbs up. The night was only getting louder. Wonwoo didn’t know how much longer he could survive or who he would even call upon to get a ride home. Everyone was plastered or buzzed.

He had no desire to sleep here overnight, though if push came to shove, Seungcheol would likely have guest bedrooms to spare.

Turning on the sink faucet, Wonwoo set his glasses aside and cupped a handful of cold water against his face. It was a shock at first, yet it felt so refreshing, and Wonwoo couldn’t help but splash some more water until he felt the drops begin uncomfortably running down to his elbows and nudged the tap back off. Once patting dry his cheeks and forehead with a towel folded through a rung secured into the wall, Wonwoo proceeded to sit down on the tiled floor.

Readjusting the glasses back to his face, he stared across the dimly lit room at the half-opened shower curtain and its patterned seashells. For a second, he didn’t move at all. But then Wonwoo was getting up, walking over to the curtain and yanking it fully open. He returned to his initial position, sitting against the wall, and started counting all the different seashells. They weren’t organized in rows like the yellow rubber ducks from his aunt’s shower curtain back in Changwon—they were miscellaneously placed, spotted more than organized, and Wonwoo counted all the shells at least three times.

“Thirty-two,” he whispered to himself.

Deep within his pocket, Wonwoo’s phone buzzed again.

[ Vernon | 3:09 am ]: h ey glasses where tf are yoi?

He decided to text his friend back, though he knew Vernon was most likely off his face and wouldn’t notice for another hour.

[ Wonwoo | 3:09 am ]: Washroom. Be up in a few.

To his surprise, Vernon’s little typing bubble immediately appeared. Wonwoo developed a sick, squirmy feeling in his stomach for some reason, only to watch the bubble abruptly disappear and not return. God—he hoped the boy hadn’t fucking fallen out the window or slipped off the billiard table in his inebriation.

Setting his phone down on the tiles beside him, Wonwoo raked his fingers through his hair and sighed aloud again. He didn’t care much about messing up the very particular way he’d brushed and swooped it. Instead, Wonwoo thought about you.

He was just with you, and yet he missed you.

Unsure of when the feeling had ever started, Wonwoo began to recognize the ache for you  some time ago—and like a little kitchen light in a prairie house that never burnt out, seen across meadows and rivers, even through the darkest nights—Wonwoo had felt the ache ever since. He thought it would die away quietly. It hadn’t. It wouldn’t. He thought that love would never again step foot inside the house that was his heart. But it had. And it was the little light.

His phone vibrated.

Wonwoo glanced down at the illuminated screen, skimming over the jumbled, misspelt words to Vernon’s text with little regard, thinking nothing of it other than how sky high his friend was.

Another text. He scooped the phone up, grumbling to himself.

[ Vernon | 3:12 am ]: yo I dont mean t be weird buthahha I’m not gbnna lie u shud come upsrairds of u wanna see it

[ Vernon | 3:13 am ]: acyaully don’t lol

Wonwoo had not a fucking clue what Vernon was rambling about and was half-considering it to be all hallucinations. Maybe another fight had broken out. Maybe you were dancing on the table and had kicked over someone’s drink. There was a small cherry pit of curiosity in his stomach, though Wonwoo wasn’t ready to get up. He sat on the washroom floor for another ten minutes or so, deciding that he would go back upstairs, pitch his goodbyes, and book an Uber.

It had been fun, tiring, enlightening even.

But Wonwoo had no energy left to give.

After playing with his hair in the mirror and smoothing out the pieces he’d disheveled, Wonwoo at last pulled open the door and emerged back into the warm corridor, the music still soaring underneath his feet. He began making his way upstairs and back to the attic space. There were at least ten new people to fill the smoky room, none of whom Wonwoo recognized, though he assumed most were Seungcheol or Mingyu’s friends. Vernon was seated on the couch, his arm sunk around a girl’s shoulders—the girl that had almost bumped into him when leaving the kitchen hours ago.

Someone had cranked the music loud enough to rumble the speakers sitting on the desk. Wonwoo could hardly decipher a single word that came from Vernon’s mouth, forcing him to lean further down as he grasped onto his friend’s hand and announced his leave.

“Awe, you’re headin’ out?!” Vernon shouted into his ear.

“Have to,” Wonwoo replied, “my brain’s gonna pop.”

Vernon slapped his shoulder. "All good—hey, thanks for even comin’ along, y’know? Stay safe. Text me when you get home.”

“Yeah, will do. Uh, you seen Princess or Seungcheol?” He asked by Vernon’s head. “I’d be nice to see them before I leave.”

“No fuckin’ clue where they went, to be honest!” Vernon answered, leaning back with a shrug. “Oh! Fuck!” He’d suddenly latched onto Wonwoo’s arm. “Dude, you missed it. But if you’re lookin’ for Her—no luck. She’s uh, a little busy right now.”

“Hm?” Wonwoo mumbled. “I can’t fucking hear.”

Vernon proceeded to jerk his friend closer, breath fanning hot against Wonwoo’s ear. He turned frozen solid as he intently listened.

“Her—she came back upstairs, high as a fuckin’ kite. Mingyu came back up right after. I don’t know what happened, but, like, within a few minutes, they were on each other, man. I got scared—thought they were gonna start fuckin’ on the table. But, nah, Mingyu took her to the bedroom down the hall. We all scurried down and listened for a sec. Holy shit—she had to be gettin’ pounded—like, must’ve been face down ass up, fuckin’, gettin’ her guts rearranged or some shit. They were both so out of their minds. It was insane, y’know. You’re not gonna see her for a good while.” Vernon then sat back with a hopeless, husky laugh. “Mine as well shoot her a fuckin’ text and hope she can still read when Gyu’s done with her!”

For a second, Wonwoo didn’t believe him. Not at all. He thought it was a joke—staring at his friend, waiting for his face to break like sundried clay, not caring whatsoever that the girl tucked against his side was clearly annoyed at their conversation and waiting for Wonwoo to leave. It was all a stupid joke and Wonwoo wanted to hear Vernon say it. And then, he would punch him for it.

“Funny,” he chuckled.

But Vernon merely shrugged, folding an ankle over his knee. “Hey, Glasses. Dunno what to tell ‘ya! S’all true. I saw it. So Did Seungcheol n’ Princess. Go down there! Listen for yourself!”

Wonwoo shook his head, beginning to laugh. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Jeez! I’m just tellin’ you the truth!”

“And you expect me to believe that?” Wonwoo shouted overtop the bass, smiling, even though he was feeling more and more enraged under the surface. “You’re high as a kite, too, yeah?”

“I saw it, man!”

“Yeah. Actually—go fuck yourself. Night.”

Vernon stretched out a hand, attempting to catch Wonwoo by the elbow as he brushed past him, yelling something that was drowned to the humid, loud atmosphere. Wonwoo still believed it was a joke—a very awful, incredibly distasteful joke that he would probably ignore Vernon over for at least a few days. Wonwoo knew he wasn’t your boyfriend. He knew you most likely didn’t reciprocate the all the same feelings with as much passion as him. But you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t discard him after he’d been so vulnerable.

He came to the corridor and gazed along the hallway.

Go down there. Listen for yourself.

Vernon’s words wriggled in a bold font to the forefront of his mind, even when he wanted to squeeze them out. But Wonwoo was exhausted, and now highly annoyed, and he knew the last thing he should do is excavate a truth that would be better off buried.

The thing was—Wonwoo had to know.

It was excruciating to not know.

And so, he walked up to each door, lightly attempting the handle or pressing his ear to the wood. He found nothing, and the relief that opened up and flowed throughout his body was equivalent to the freshest breath of air. Wonwoo was about to text Vernon that his stupid stunt had failed when he heard it—that suspicious, croaked sound which prompted his fingers to stop dead in their typing tracks.

He stared into the door, focusing hard.

No, it was the music. It had been playing all night, anyway.

But then there was a thump. Once, twice, three times.

Wonwoo shoved his ear back against the crack in the threshold, one hand coming to rest ever so softly on the brass handle.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Muting even his breath in case it interfered with or somehow warped the noise, he listened longer, his stomach twisting in knots.

“Fuck! Mingyu!”

There was ice in his veins. All the blood froze so quickly. It was cold enough to turn his skin to frost but Wonwoo kept listening.

“If I fuck you any harder, I’ll break this fuckin’ bed, sweetheart. Is that what you want, huh? Tell me, baby. Are you that much of a slut for me? Hm? Are you that much of a whiny slut?”

“Y-Yes, Gyu! M’n-nothing—ff-fuck—!”

“Answer me or I’ll stop!”

“No—nonono—m’such a slut for you! Such a whiny l-little... Fuck! Mmm—c-can’t take it, Gyu! S’too much!”

“Move your fuckin’ hand! Take it, just like you asked for. If you’re gonna act like such a slut then fuckin’ take what I give you!”

Wonwoo couldn’t bear to hear a second longer. He knew it was your voice, your skin, your breath, your pleasure. It was entirely you at the rigid and exploitative hands of Mingyu. And Wonwoo felt sick. Something acidic surged up his throat in a stinging burn. With a hand latched over his mouth, Wonwoo raced toward the washroom, immediately locking himself inside before collapsing at the toilet and upheaving all the contents in his stomach. The nausea had never hit him so quickly before. His insides filled with even more dread.

But he wasn’t actually sick.

It was merely the horrible, haunting anxiety that came with opening up—its effects reaping toxically into his flesh because it had all been thrown back in his face like a sloppy high school lunch tray. It was hearing the girl he positively loved moan and writhe and beg for another man who didn’t care for her interests or thoughts or soul.

He’d cut himself open for you, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

—JUNE 16TH.

By the time Wonwoo woke up, it was five in the evening. His face was practically plastered—no, moulded, into the pillow—with a dried trace of drool streaked down his cheek. Wonwoo had never drooled before. The groan he released upon rolling from his stomach to his back was groggy and brittle, with his hand slapping cluelessly against the bedside table until he managed to grab hold of his black-framed glasses. He slid them on, and then wiggled further up the bed.

Before his irritable hunger, or the twisting of his full bladder, or the headache pulsing behind temples, Wonwoo felt a very gorged wound scissored into his heart. It was stinging raw, like sea salt from the ocean touching at an unbeknownst cut hidden somewhere sensitive on the body. Except, Wonwoo knew exactly where the cut was and how deep it ran and how much he was struggling to even breathe. He stumbled into the washroom, switched on the faucet, but Wonwoo couldn’t even bring himself to stare into the mirror.

Instead, he crouched down to his haunches, hands shakily gripping at the edges of the stone-cold porcelain for stability while the water gushed above him. With his eyes pinched shut, Wonwoo focused hard on every breath he took, so hard that white smudges began blossoming against the pitch blackness of his eyelids. His mouth suddenly jutted open, and he inhaled the biggest breath he could manage, but it cracked somewhere in the middle and Wonwoo knew he was going to start sobbing.

Unable to hold the sink any longer, Wonwoo let go of its sharp edges and curled up tight on the floor, the tears sprouting unbridled and glossing to stain over the rouge of his cheeks. In his mind, it was the most pitiful sight. He thought he would have learned his lesson the first time about opening up and trusting another, yet, somehow, he was back in the same fucking place. He thought he was being cautious. Not cautious enough. He thought he was taking his time. Not enough time. Wonwoo never judged anything right.

—JUNE 17TH.

[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: hey glasses

[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: haven’t heard from u since Friday

[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: pls tell me u made it home alright

…

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:30 am ]: Hey Wonwoo! It’s Seungcheol (got ur number from Seokmin btw)

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:31 am ]: Really nice to meet you and glad you could make it out! Ur a super cool dude. Idk if you like pickup basketball but I always play on weekends at the uni B gym. If you ever want to come down or wtv let me know!

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:35 am ]: Princess says ur awesome

…

[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: Hey Won

[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: Make it home alright?

[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: It was nice to see you!!

—JUNE 18TH.

[ Vernon | 10:01 am ]: Seokmin and I r going mini-putting at that glow in the dark place I got fired from lol u in or nah?

[ Vernon | 10:25 am ]: helloooooooo? u there beautiful?

…

[ Vernon | 3:45 pm ]: glasses are you fucking alive dude?

[ Seokmin | 3:50 pm ]: Everything okay? Did u get sick?

—JUNE 19TH.

[ Vernon | 7:13 am ]: okay haha it’s not funny anymore

[ Vernon | 7:13 am ]: wonwoo I swear if you don’t fucking text me back in the next 12 hours I’m breaking ur door down cuz wtf man im fuckin pissing my pants over here

…

[ Her | 9:00 am ]: hey!!

[ Her | 9:00 am ]: I hope you made it home okay :) sorry I didn’t text you.  I’ve been sick as a dog omg but I feel better today

[ Her | 9:02 am ]: I’m so glad u came even if it was a little tense or overwhelming at times lol. I loved seeing u there. don’t quite rmbr everything that happened but I’m sure it was fun

[ Her | 9:03 am ]: miss you a lot alrd

[ Her | 9:10 am ]: we still good to work on the book tmo?

Since he slept well into the afternoon, Wonwoo didn’t notice any of the morning texts until much later, when he finally sat down at the dining table to slowly nibble a piece of strawberry jam toast. It wasn’t that he was ignoring Vernon or Seokmin’s texts, more so the fact he had been trying to stay off his phone altogether. It was just too much and he couldn’t afford to worry about anyone else but himself, though, he supposed it might be time to answer poor Vernon.

Wonwoo had disregarded your texts—didn’t glance at them for longer than a millisecond or absorb one written word. At the moment, he didn’t know where he stood with you. Saturday had been brutal, Sunday was stupendously worse, on Monday he’d called in sick because the thought of stepping one foot outside his apartment made him ghostly ill, and Tuesday, today, he was quite mopey, lethargic, and hardly contained enough energy to even feed himself.

But he still took another bite from his toast.

It was better than completely and utterly rotting.

[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: Sorry.

[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: Wasn’t feeling the greatest.

[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: I promise I’m alive.

He set the phone down beside his plate, continuing to tear at small sections  of the toast to make it easier to eat. Wonwoo didn’t bother replying to anyone else. If they were truly that concerned as to why he hadn’t answered—which he knew they weren’t—then Vernon could disseminate whatever information he pleased.

Poking his glasses up with a pinky finger, Wonwoo saw his phone screen illuminate with a text from Vernon.

[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: jesus christ wonwoo

[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: don’t scare me like that I legit thought something happened to u

[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: man check ur fucking texts lol

Wonwoo pushed the dish aside and picked up his phone.

[ Wonwoo | 1:45 pm ]: My bad.

[ Vernon | 1:45 pm ]: it’s ok

[ Vernon | 1:45 pm]: soz u got sick

[ Vernon | 1:46 pm ]: u feel any better?

No—Wonwoo had almost audibly laughed. He felt pulverised, like a piece of trembling jelly hardly able to walk. If he was lucky, he might be able to keep the toast down without his grief getting in the way and tormenting the nutrients back out of him. But it wasn’t like his friend could do anything about it or make his nightmares end.

[ Wonwoo | 1:47 pm ]: Yeah, I’m okay now.

You were right—Wonwoo really was a liar.

[ Vernon | 1:47 pm ]: good!

[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: yeah got pretty sick myself tbh

[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: next day was ass

[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: well uh if theres anything u need lemme kno im gonna b out today I could prob stop by whenever

After thumbing up the message, Wonwoo grabbed his plate, walked over to the sink, and tossed it in, hearing it crash into the stainless-steel emptiness. He didn’t know what else he would do today. Probably nothing at all except lay in his bed and sleep.

[ Her | 7:00 pm ]: hey pls check ur messages <3

…

[ Her | 8:09 pm ]: hey can u fucking check ur msgs

…

[ Her | 10:15 pm ]: wonwoo this is embarrassing for me PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CHECK UR MESSAGES!!

Hearing his phone ding for the third time that night, Wonwoo at last rolled over to drag the device aglow from the bedside table. As he lazily fixed the glasses over his face to squint across the fine print, his stomach dropped faster than the incline on a roller coaster. You were getting blatantly impatient with his lack of response.

The thing was, he always answered you. Even if he was in the middle of working, or blazed from his head to his toes, or half-asleep and hardly conscious—Wonwoo would always make time to text you back because there was nothing more important in his life.

It wasn’t that he was void of all desire to talk to you—it was that his body physically couldn’t allow it. His fingers suddenly felt so stiff, like they were wooden, and his mind flashed blank with not a single word to spare. He was still devastated with you, and that was putting it fucking mildly. Breathing out all the conjured despair and pain through his nose, Wonwoo left the phone on his nightstand, rolling back over to his side in another attempt to sleep.

—JUNE 20TH.

[ Her | 8:02 am ]: wonwoo why aren’t you answering me?

[ Her | 8:02 am ]: I was going to get rly mad at u and send a long nagging text or a voicemail but I feel like somethings wrong

[ Her | 8:10 am ]: we’re supposed to write today :(

[ Her | 8:35 am ]: I’m starting to get worried ugh

—JUNE 21ST.

[ Her | 11:20 am ]: wonwoo can you please send me something so I know you’re okay? even just a thumbs up?

[ Her | 11:25 am ]: please

—JUNE 23RD.

[ Her | 9:30 pm ]: okay it’s basically been a week since the party and idk what to do. I’m so fucking pissed off at you bc why can’t you just answer me? Ik I’m not blocked which leads me to think you’re not pissed at me? otherwise u would block me

[ Her | 9:31 pm ]: you’re reading my texts ik u are

[ Her | 9:34 pm ]: just why are you doing this I don’t understand I feel like crying bc I don’t know what I did or why you’re ignoring me?? if I did something can you please tell me I just hate this fucking guessing game and I hate you for putting me thru it

[ Her | 9:35 pm ]: fuck you honestly

[ Her | 10:36 pm ]: but I still miss you so much

[ New voice mail from Her | 10:58 pm ]

—JUNE 26TH.

Wonwoo felt the phone continuously buzz in his pocket for the third time that afternoon—he was getting another call while at the pharmacy and at that point even his boss was beginning to take note. He hardly ever worked morning to afternoon shifts, but another staff member was sick and so Wonwoo was unfortunately hailed upon to take their place, though, he had realized it might be a good idea for him to experience the fresh, softer air against his face, which chiefly prompted him to accept. Even if he had thrown up his breakfast in the washroom just before his shift started, at least he’d tried to eat something—thawed out blueberry waffles with butter were still too much for his stomach. He should probably stick to toast.

As he stood behind the counter, marking down another bundle of vitamin bottles and their expiry dates from the clipboard, his boss was handing out prescriptions. Wonwoo was in the midst of a long, impossible-to-hide yawn when his phone started vibrating again, that stupid Sencha ringtone practically grating his ears.

“Wonwoo,” his boss said, “I think you better answer that.”

“No, it’s nothing. I’ll shut my phone off.”

Her reading glasses were poised at the tip of her nose as she typed some information into the computer, each click from the chunky keyboard notably slower than the last.

“Well,” she huffed, clearing her throat, “whoever it is, that was their fourth time calling you… I do believe that warrants some attention. Now, if you’re sure it’s nothing at all, then I’d rather you keep that phone in your locker, alright?”

He paused, staring down at the clipboard in his hands.

“… Can I take just five minutes?”

Glancing over the shoulder of her pristine white lab coat, his boss nodded, and Wonwoo left the clipboard sitting alongside the vitamin bottles. He slipped into the employee break room and out the heavy backdoor, stepping behind the building for the utmost privacy.

Wriggling out the phone from his pants pocket, Wonwoo stared at the four separate notifications, all spread out within the past hour. Vernon had been attempting to reach Wonwoo for whatever reason, though he didn’t know what could possibly be so goddamn pressing that a text message wouldn’t suffice. He didn’t want to find out, either. But Wonwoo had already excused himself, and he didn’t want to waste the precious five minutes he’d been anointed.

He dialed his friend back. The call was picked up instantly.

“Vernon, what the f—”

“Glasses! It’s about fuckin’ time you answered your stupid phone! Where the hell are you, anyway? Mars?!” His voice boomed through the staticky line like a boxer’s jab and Wonwoo immediately moved the device from his ear, taking a second to orient himself.

“I’m at work, dumbass. Use your fucking head.”

“Work?! Oh, give me a break. Work! That’s your excuse?!”

Letting his temple prop against the uncomfortable brick wall, Wonwoo rubbed at his nose, his eyes squeezing out the sunlight.

“Just tell me why you’re blowing up my phone…”

“How about ‘cause I almost got mugged! That’s why!”

“Wha—mugged? Vernon, what? By who?”

“Your girlfriend, that’s fuckin’ who!”

Wonwoo pushed off the wall using his shoulder, taking a few steps across the cigarette butt-littered walkway. He absolutely hated it beyond comprehension whenever Vernon referred to you as his girlfriend—even more so now—though he was plagued by the thickest confusion and he needed Vernon to calm down in order to explain everything succinctly.

Taking a thorough breath, he stopped pacing.

“Okay, chill out, for just a second. And then talk to me. Because I don’t have a clue what you’re yelling about. I told my boss I’d be five minutes and I’m wasting out the clock.”

“Fuck—okay. So, I was gettin’ gas, alright? Mindin’ my own business when I see Her come outside the store. I thought, oh, hey, I know we’re probably not on the greatest terms yet but I’ll say hi.” He heard the boy cut himself off, and then laugh a bit, as though he were still reeling from the incident. “Dude, the second she sees me, I think I’m gonna die. She practically corners me at my Camry, like, askin’ me all this stuff: what happened to Wonwoo? Where’s Wonwoo? Do you know what’s goin’ on? Why isn’t he talkin’ to me?”

At that point, Wonwoo had squatted down in the middle of the walkway, rubbing a hand dreadfully against his cheek. He didn’t have a cigarette on him, but if he did, he’d be smoking it down to the pathetic nub. Vernon coughed and then started up his story again.

“I try to tell the chick—hey, I’ve got no fuckin’ clue! He told me he wasn’t feelin’ well, we haven’t spoken much—like, fuck if I know all the details to your goddamn life! She doesn’t believe I’m givin’ the full truth. I tell her again: look, he’s real private, he doesn’t talk about much. If he is goin’ through somethin’, just give him space and time—blah, blah. She tells me I’m a bad friend! Like—what the fuck, first of all! A bad friend?! She’s—okay, anyway—"

Wonwoo began to pull at some green sprigs of grass pushing up from between cracks in the cement, just to give his nervous, trembly fingers something to do. His heartbeat was climbing higher in his throat.

“She thinks you hate her, o-or I don’t know what she fuckin’ thinks, actually. What I do know is that she hates me ten times more than she did before, n’ that you need to get off your fuckin’ ass and talk to her! Do y’know scary it is to have Her yellin’ at you?! I thought she was gonna light my hair on fire with the gas pump or some shit! Fuck. My heart’s like, still racin’. And not to terrify you but she might stop by your place later today—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he interrupted Vernon while shooting back to his feet, beginning to anxiously pace all over again, “you think she’ll stop by my apartment? No, that can’t—” Wonwoo stumbled on a rock, then reared his foot to punt it hard across the cement, “I-I don’t want to talk to her. I fucking can’t. It’s too much.”

“I don’t know what to do about that…” Vernon sighed, followed by the distinctive spark of a lighter crackling in the background. “Didn’t even know you were ignorin’ her… what happened, anyway? I mean, this shit seems real serious.”

The silence was so thinned but still unbearably long, and as Wonwoo listened to his friend ignite a blunt in order to mellow out, he felt that unmistakable pain twist at the pliable centre of his chest, like he was being carved into with a whittling tool.

Put simply, Wonwoo wasn’t ready to see you, let alone have a civil conversation that could be separate from his bitter, hurt emotion. There was too much he needed to decide alone, and as the hot, stinging summer air around him became concerningly harder to breathe, Wonwoo had no other choice but to hang up on his friend and burst back into the employee washroom. Eventually, his boss had stopped by to knock on the door, to which Wonwoo answered with the most reluctant, pained, hoarse voice he could muster.

“S-Sorry—be out soon…”

“… I’ll give you a few more minutes,” she answered after a momentary pause, most likely realizing something was very wrong.

 But he couldn’t hide it any better than that.

Wonwoo stepped inside the pottery shop, the bells overhead tinkling, and the attention of his landlord now piqued as she glanced up from the earth-coloured vase being washed by her paintbrush.

“Back from work?” She asked.

“Yeah…” he sighed, making his way toward the staircase, already reaching for the handrail, “can hardly stand. I’m exhausted.”

Sweeping some dried pieces of clay off her messy, weathered apron, she lent Wonwoo a sympathetic smile. “Well, rest up.”

He nodded at her.

Coming up to his apartment, Wonwoo was inexplicably relieved he hadn’t run into you at any point. He clicked his lock shut with another sigh, a more distant one that arose from somewhere so dusty and cold inside his chest. Maybe Vernon was right, Wonwoo thought while kicking off his shoes. Maybe it would be best to get such an excruciating, uncomfortable conversation out of the way rather than ruminate over how awful it was bound to be.

He scrubbed his hands clean at the sink, then trudged into his bedroom to change from his pharmacy appropriate clothes.

But as he came to sit at the edge of his bed, thinking back to that night—all the touches and tender glances and how foolishly he presumed it would be okay to open those clandestine, personal pages he always struggled to share—Wonwoo knew it was still too premature. If he were to speak with you now, nothing productive or relatively good would come from it. He leaned forward into his hands and raked them distraughtly through his hair, tugging against the black fronds until he worried about legitimately pulling them out.

You were obviously concerned and worried—he knew that, and part of him ached because it was due to his own ignorance.

It just couldn’t happen yet.

Wonwoo was mad at you. He felt betrayed, disrespected, used. There was sadness, heavier than his body weight. So much emotion was blistering and alive inside of him with nowhere to go.

Collapsing backward, arms tossed beside his head, Wonwoo closed his eyes and hoped he might fall asleep deep enough in order to never wake up. That way, he would never have to face reality—he would never have to stand in front of you and cough up some half-baked explanation that only served to protect himself.

Through the haze and mist of his bizarre dreams that whipped by akin to reels from old age movies, Wonwoo saw someone he didn’t think would ever reappear in his subconscious again—Jeanie.

He had no idea where he was, or what those disembodied figures were that shifted in the blurred distance. She was the only detail he could pinpoint. Wonwoo walked toward her, pushing through something invisible but notably thick, like molasses. He tried inconceivably hard to absorb the intricacies of her face, but when he stared for too long, her features would start moving, almost melting off her as though she was a wax figure in a sweltering auditorium.

Yet, he could hear something.

There were voices becoming louder in his ears, and the more intently he listened for them, the clearer Jeanie’s face became.

The girl’s hair was chin length, dark. Dark like timbre. Or very fine-grated flint. It looked soft to one’s touch, if, in fact, one could possibly touch her without her shattering. I remember thinking that. The girl will shatter if I bump her, even if it’s an accidental thing—a gentle scraping sort of contact that wouldn’t even disrupt a feather.

I remember her eyes, too. My brother owned a box of marbles when he was twelve years old. When I looked into the girl’s eyes, it was like I was eight again, staring over the discarded sewing tin that held my brother’s smooth, large, galactic marbles he told me to never play with. I hated him for it. I think a part of me still does. But I don’t feel that resentment when I look into her eyes. Rather I feel the mystery and curiosity I believed was permanently erased alongside my youth.

Then there were her lips, which were small but plump. They seemed almost stained. I thought an artist took a stroke of watery, blood red paint to her mouth. It’s even hard to hear her when she speaks. I have to lean in so closely that my chest shrinks in on itself with coyness. I love it too much but I can’t let the beautiful, quiet girl know.

Wonwoo knew every word—he could recite them endlessly, without a sweat or a hiccup. It was his own writing after all, from the book he’d attempted to write for her during their relationship. Finally, he could see Jeanie standing in front of him, at the edge of clarity. Close enough to embrace and kiss and beg so pathetically for forgiveness.

But Wonwoo was never given the chance.

The voices scattered in a mere instant, whisking away into the baby blue nothingness that engulfed him like a handful of sand grains on a windy beach. Instead, he heard knocking. It rattled his brain.

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

The atmosphere started to crumble. He was caught in that peculiar stretch of being half-asleep and half-awake, when it’s impossible to decipher reality from the reverie that doesn’t quite want to let go just yet. Everything shuddered and swayed like a house on stilts.

“Wonwoo! Open the fucking door! For fuck’s sake!”

And then, he was shooting up in bed, fast enough to prompt the dizziness that whorled the entire room into a confusing mélange of shapes and evening clementine colours. His heart was barraging against his chest, and Wonwoo had to settle a hand overtop the pulse to confirm with himself that the organ was still inside his body. As he wiped off the sweat that glistened by his temples, trying to mentally grasp the fading fragments from his dream, Wonwoo heard the knocking sound again. Louder. As though his door would cave in.

He knew it was you. You weren’t going to leave, either, not unless someone had to drag you out the building by the ankles, or until you spoke to Wonwoo about his impromptu ghosting.

The thing was, Wonwoo was fucking pissed.

He was pissed that such a bittersweet dream had been ripped away from him like everything else in his life—most often love and trust—and he was pissed that he never got any closure.

Wonwoo was just boiling over, tired of everything.

Knockknockknock!

Stumbling into the living room, Wonwoo approached the door that was currently receiving the abuse of a lifetime. His hand grazed the knob, though it was nothing akin to the first time he’d let you inside his apartment, so nervous, flustered, doubting himself. When he opened the door, Wonwoo opened it with an unwavering abruptness that presented you at the threshold, your closed fist left still in the air like you were a marionette frozen by your orchestrator.

With your mouth agape and soundless, Wonwoo wondered if you would even speak. The shock was slowly spreading throughout your face, adorned as usual with that picture perfect makeup.

But he’d assumed too quickly.

“Jesus fucking Christ! So, you are alive!”

He stepped aside while you stormed into the apartment, and then he let the door swing shut, capturing the two of you in privacy.

You spun around to glare Wonwoo down.

“What the actual fuck is your problem?! Did you forget how to read?! Write?! Answer your fucking phone?! I mean, would it kill you, Wonwoo, to text me back? Even just one word? Or, is that too fucking difficult?! It’s not like I’m asking for a goddamn scripture!”

Since March, Wonwoo had known you. It was nearly July.

Never had he seen you like this before. Sure, there were times you had gotten angry and that short fuse inside would burst. It was always jarring, but you tended to regain composure within the next minute or so, shaking off the confining chrysalis of your rage.

This didn’t seem so easy to shake off.

You were furious. Wonwoo watched you begin to pace the living room, your hands gesturing about wildly. There was practically a radiation that glowed from around you, red like singed charcoals.

“I can’t believe the rollercoaster you have put me through this past week, you asshole! I mean, seriously! I've never been this baffled! At first, I just assumed you were sick! Because—who wasn’t sick after that night? But we had to write the next day, and you always get back to me, so when you didn’t, my stomach started twisting up! I thought, something has to be wrong—Wonwoo doesn’t do this! He never stands me up! But I didn’t want to pry, because you fucking hate when I pry, so I left it alone! I left it and then I still get nothing!”

A Rubik’s cube was sitting on the coffee table. For some reason, you snatched it up and started jamming at the panels while continuing to pace the living room. Your hands were fizzling firecrackers, surging with ample energy, needing a task to direct all that accumulated anger so the fingers wouldn’t fly off your joints.

“But I see Vernon getting gas! And, wow, everything is just so peachy for him! Life is so sweet and sugary for the local drug dealer who just milked hundreds of dollars out of some stupid rich kids and their latent drug addictions! And you know what I had to do? I had to back him up like a feral fucking cat just to wrangle some information about you! Because I thought maybe you were dead, or kidnapped, or you just suddenly hate me! I looked like such a psychopath!” 

You slammed the unsolved Rubik’s cube back onto the coffee table hard enough to dislodge a few pieces. They spotted his carpet like blood spatters. A tattered, deep breath was sucked up your nose.

“So, here I fucking am, screaming my head off because I am so pissed at you, Wonwoo! I want an answer even if it kills me!”

The air was dead silent, and Wonwoo wanted to let the room breathe for just a minute at most. Every single word you had spewed was compressed into the spaces of his apartment and if he didn’t give the atmosphere enough time to settle then his walls would undoubtedly burst. You refused to stare anywhere else but him. There was so much need and pain and agony behind those glassy eyes.

Wonwoo glanced down at his socked feet, swallowed hard, and then back at you. He had to speak. Nothing else would suffice.

“… Honestly… there’s no answer I can give you that won’t hurt, or make you any less upset… I don’t want to drag this out, either.” A subtle breath entered his mouth. “Her, we shouldn’t do this anymore—the book. I don’t want to help. You can finish it yourself.”

It was sharp, so meticulously sharp—a clean, smooth cut.

Though he was calm water on the outside, he felt a trembling behind his ribs. His heart was groveling with him to not be so cruel.

You laughed, titled your head. “What?”

“I can’t continue to help you write.”

Again, the room was silent.

“… You… you’re… you what?”

Something wasn’t connecting inside your brain. For some reason, you could not comprehend what Wonwoo was insisting. His patience was translucent and the longer he stood across from you in the living room, thinking about his interrupted dream and the vulnerability you stepped all over and the time he wasted—he could only get angrier. His fingernail scraped over his thumb like a tooth.

You wiped something off your face and started to laugh again.

“God—okay. There’s—I’m sorry but there’s absolutely no way you just said that to me… I come here, sick to my fucking stomach, worried about you. Yes, I’m mad but—I-I still care. And you—you’re going to—fuck.” A hand then clasped over your mouth as you pointed your gaze to the shag carpet, and for a moment, Wonwoo couldn’t decide if you were masking a laugh or a sob. “You’re going to tell me that we should just… stop, in your words. Or, you’ll stop, and I can keep trudging on. Am I hearing that right? Is that what you said?”

Wonwoo nodded.

He hadn’t realized it, but he’d just detonated a bomb.

At first, there was not a single crease or wrinkle that ruptured your disturbingly placid face. But, surely enough, he was beginning to observe the slow, inevitable fracturing that started with a twitch in your upper lip, and then a wicked furrow pulling down your brow, and that irritable blinking of your eyes as though someone had just blown a cloud of dust into them. Wonwoo knew it was coming.

“Fuck you.”

It was so spiteful, almost demonic.

“You should go,” Wonwoo said, sighing.

Instead, your head rung back and forth.

“No, actually—” you stepped toward him, fingers pinching at the thick, almost palpable air while your eyes fumed with every malevolent thought that burned inside you, “—fuck you, Wonwoo.”

He stared back at you, somehow unfaltering.

“Listen, if you don’t—”

“If I don’t what?!” You screamed, your palms slamming against his chest and prompting him to stumble backward. “If I don’t leave, then fucking what?!” Even though it was just you shouting, it sounded like there were hundreds of anguished women behind each word.

Wonwoo felt the pin drop into his gut.

“Y’know what I think, Wonwoo?! I think this is just like that time at SRX, when you told me the same fucking thing! You just picked up all your shit and left! No explanation, no prelude, no nothing! Is that what gets you off? Huh? Treating everyone like they’re pieces of scrap metal with no fucking emotion?! You can just do whatever you want! Doesn’t matter! Who gives a fuck about whose feelings I’m totally disregarding, whose time I’m wasting. I’m Wonwoo! I get to pull the plug on everybody because who cares!”

Your voice had employed a fake, mocking tone.

And while Wonwoo knew the better choice was to maintain his quiet, mature composure, it was much easier to disregard the guise altogether—chuck it straight out the window like a browned banana peel because as much as he’d like to believe he was refined, evolved, and in control, Wonwoo hadn’t ever been anything of the sort.

He shook his head at you.

“I disregard people’s feelings? People’s time? Me?”

“Yes, you!”

“That is such bullshit.”

“Oh, come the fuck on, Wonwoo! Don’t be so damn deluded!”

“Do you even hear yourself? A single word that you’re fucking saying? I disregard people’s feelings? Well, what about you, then? You—and, sorry if this puts a nick in the perfect, angelic image you have of yourself—but you just use people. And I don’t want to be used anymore. There’s my fucking answer that you want so badly.”

You gagged at him, slack-mouthed down to the floor.

“I use people? Wonwoo, are you fucking insane?!”

“No more than you.”

“How?! Tell me how I’ve used you!”

He laughed at the demand, rubbing a hand across his scalp. “Oh, come on—don’t make me spell it out for you, Her.”

“No, please do! Please spell out in that scholar-kissed, prestigious vocabulary of yours how I’ve used you!”

Wonwoo paced over to the fireplace mantel, this light-headed, tingly sensation beginning to merge with his blood and flow to every crack and crevice of his body. He couldn’t believe this was happening, but now that you two were shredding into each other, Wonwoo saw no point in sugar coating a damn thing. If you wanted the truth, then he would give you exactly that—it mattered no less to him.

“The book. How is that not obvious? I mean, for the last few months, that’s all I’ve done. Is help you. You didn’t even care about who I was before. You just wanted someone who could make your life easier and bend to all your whims at the drop of a hat. I’m the one who has to put up with your obsessions and gripes and your crazy fucking mood swings—I mean, do you even know how draining that shit is? You don’t, because you care about you. You care about writing this masterpiece for Mingyu—who, I should mention—doesn’t give a fuck about you. But you know that, right? You’re a smart girl, aren’t you?

You know it when he treats you like a dumb object, belittles you in front of your friends, puts down and shows no support in your interests—like, really, Her? That’s who you’re in love with? That’s the man you want to spend the rest of your life with? Or do you just like him for his status? Is it because he pays for your coke and your clothes and your entire fucking life? And what about Seokmin? Your little puppy dog. Always so eager to do whatever you ask of him. He just does all the shit that’s not worth your breath. So, instead of wasting your time, you waste his instead.

Bells and Clara? Why the fuck do you even keep them around? You treat them like they're insufferable. But you know they make you look better—so much smarter, more organized, goal-driven—they’re just the two annoying drunk girls that tag along because as much as you despise them you just can’t deny how good they make you look. But that’s what you do! You use everyone around you and no one ever says a fucking thing because you’re such a tyrant!”

Wonwoo was fully cognizant of how sadistic it all was—that’s what he intended. If every word was not going to lacerate or bite or sink so painfully deep into your tissue that it felt like a bony dagger, then there was no point in saying anything at all. You were across from him, vibrating like an excited atom, your fists clenched while every possible hue of rage spilt down the length of your hollow face.

Simple enough—you’d asked him to spell it out, and that’s what he’d done. If could make it any clearer, he would. You then gulped, and there sounded a quiver to your voice that Wonwoo had never heard before. He stood tensely, awaiting your response.

“H-Hm, so… that’s what you think of me?” The end of your question sharply pitched off. “That’s your conclusion?”

“It is,” Wonwoo answered, pressing up his glasses.

Rolling your shoulders and clearing your throat, you nodded, meanwhile you stared down at your hands which began to slowly unfurl. Wonwoo realized that your fingers were trembling like dry, autumn leaves in a soaring wind. He’d never seen that before, ever.

“So, actually, what I think—” you coughed, placing an elbow overtop your mouth to catch the spit, “—I think that…”

For a moment, Wonwoo thought it was over. Your voice was so quiet, hushed, with hardly an ounce of tenacity or grit. But he should have known better than to suspect you of being so spineless.

“What I think, Wonwoo, is that you love to write, and read, because the only person you can communicate with is yourself. You… you are so emotionally stunted that it should be fucking studied. That was the most I’ve ever heard you speak, and you used all of it to basically call me fake, manipulative, and shallow.”

“Because you asked.”

“God. You are so empty, Wonwoo. You’re just a shell. You would rather exist inside your literary delusions than reality because there is nothing for you here. No real relationships, no real aspirations, nothing. And you know why that happened? You can’t fucking talk about anything. Instead, you just hold it all inside—you hold it and hold it until it starts seeping out and poisoning everyone around you. It’s your own fucking fault, Wonwoo. You're gonna drive everyone away. And then have the audacity to somehow point the finger, like they’re the one with the fucking problem. But it’s you.”  

He could almost hear the clatter of the metal against the hardwood as you dragged out the metaphorical dagger. There was even a physical pain throbbing at his lower back, though, Wonwoo quickly began to accept the pain was aflame everywhere on his body.

Your lips were pressed together in a strict, firm line. If you opted to speak just one word more, then maybe the dam would break, and his apartment would transform into a sodden, soaked mess.

He watched your head begin to shake, and then you were swallowing down a gigantic, stinging lump. Of course, even at your most barren, emotionally exhausted self, you would get the last word.

“So you can go fuck yourself.”

And Wonwoo was willing to let you have it.

He closed his door at the sound of your wrenched sob in the corridor. There wasn’t much else for him to do other than click the lock shut, pick up the broken pieces from his Rubik’s cube, and walk back into his bedroom. Wonwoo whipped the curtains shut, crawled underneath the cold, thin covers that he stretched over his head.

In the isolating darkness, he slept.

Alone again.

—JULY 21ST.

It was some time in the evening.

A soft, nearly unsettling quietness engulfed the train station.

There was nothing even relatively stimulating that Wonwoo could do apart from aimless surfing through his phone, sparing the occasional glance toward the directory desk with its few uniformed clerks. A navy-blue suitcase was at his side, stuffed full of folded clothes and charging cables. As organized earlier in the year, Wonwoo had spent the week at his uncle’s house—even his older brother managed to stop by for a few days to celebrate Wonwoo’s birthday.

For the most part, Wonwoo enjoyed his time there. The house was more like a cottage, situated on a fresh, small lake shaded over by the summer canopies of sycamore and evergreen trees. While he didn’t dabble in any swimming, Wonwoo had liked stretching out on the webbed hammock down by the firepit, rocking himself back and forth using a long leg that he kept strewn over the edge.

He missed that peaceful feeling engendered by the lakeside wind and the rustling leaves—how rejuvenating it all was to escape the monotonous hell that was his life back in the grey, stiff city.

Wonwoo clicked on his phone to check the time.

5:50 pm.

He would need to board his train soon.

Unfortunately, whether he liked it or not, Wonwoo had to go back and he had to pick up where he’d so painfully left off. No more pieces of refrigerated chocolate cake straight from the box or sitting outside on the maplewood patio to jingle a fake mouse at the paws of his uncle’s cat. No more packed joints beside the ebbing shoreline at midnight, or waking up to the most ethereal, golden light warming through the curtains as though the skies were made with honey.

Wonwoo sighed, plugging in the earbuds left dangling at his shirt collar. He scrolled through his music looking for a song to play.

Above all, it had nearly been a month since he last spoke to you.

Spoke wasn’t even the right word. That day, Wonwoo had set out to ruin you, because he could not bring himself to steep in all that misery and vitriol alone, bearing its weight like he was made from pressurized diamond when in truth—he was flaky and feeble.

The weeks that passed afterword were all blurred together. He talked to no one. Seldom saw anybody. Wonwoo had hardly existed.

A voicemail was still sitting in his inbox. You had sent it to him during a late night in June after the crazed party at Seungcheol’s family mansion, though Wonwoo never bothered listening to it because it was one of his biggest weaknesses—your voice—the most beautiful sound in the world as you had once phrased to him back at the café Wonwoo used to frequent. Then, he’d laughed it off, believing you were beyond full of yourself. Gradually, however, it became truth.

To hear you talk was to feel so in love that it physically ached.

“Train to Lees Station will be arriving within the next five minutes. Please make your way to platform C for boarding.”

The announcement finished with a ding.

Wonwoo got to his feet and grabbed the suitcase handle, beginning to pull it behind him while following the small, silent crowd toward the elevator. It was finally time to go home. Although home didn't seem like much to him anymore, if not just an aimless place in a bleak city that had lost all its warmth.

10:48 pm.

Wonwoo couldn’t sleep, or even take a nap.

When he would rest his head against the window, his eyes could only stay shut for no longer than a measly, frustrating minute. He’d completely exhausted his playlists. By midnight, the train would stop at his station, anyway. There was nothing left for him to listen to… except that voicemail. It was an awful fucking idea, but Wonwoo hadn’t been able to shake the temptation since it first crept into his memory all those hours ago.

Wonwoo didn’t want to think about you—not until he’d stepped off that goddamn train and had fully left all remnants of his short summer vacation behind. When he was back amongst the ignorant city people, and those towering glass infrastructures, and the constant honking, beeping, and roaring of motorized vehicles, would he even probe the thought. But—then again—so much time had passed. So much time to regret, anguish, and loathe his actions.

“… So, um—I-I just want to say first and foremost how much you suck for doing this to me, actually. You… god—fuck, if I have to blow my nose one more time… you suck, Wonwoo! You just—you fucking suck so much! You and your stupid privacy! I-I’m not trying to invade your life o-or get—or pry into something I shouldn’t be—I just want an answer, I want clarity, I want you to—I want—I need you to be a fucking person and just talk to me so I don’t hate myself! Because right now I feel like this is all my fucking fault!

… And it sucks because I don’t even know who I can talk to about this. I want to talk to you. But I can’t a-and… oh my god… we were supposed to write a couple days ago. At the park. I knew you weren’t going to show up but I went there anyway. I tried so hard to put down a sentence. But I hated all of it. I looked back at everything I’d written so far and I wanted to erase every single fucking word and blame you for it… f-fuck… I’m running out of stupid fucking tissues… oh… where’s the extra box?... I’m such a wreck.

… And, um, oh my gosh. Yesterday, at the mall, I went shopping, and I saw this really cute shirt. It was so pretty. Um… dammit! Sorry, I just hit my elbow… that hurt, Jesus Christ… uh—right, so, I saw this shirt and it was so cute with little buttons on it. It was white and blue. A little bit of frills. I know you don’t like frills but I promise it was just the right amount. A-And I have the perfect skirt to go with it. So, um, I put it on, and it fit really nice. I took a picture in the fitting room and I wanted to send it to you but you’re not talking to me right now. But, uh, I did buy it.

I was wearing it today. But then, like, the worst th-thing ever happened… um, it ripped. I ripped it. I don’t even know how, I was just going through my closet and it caught on a broken hanger or something and then all I heard was a b-big rip… it’s totally ruined now. I don’t know but I burst into tears. I was crying so hard and you were the first person I wanted to call but you’re not talking to me, a-and—fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying anymore… I just—I’m mad at you, I’m so fucking mad but I still care and—please, I miss you. I really, really miss you, Wonwoo. It hurts inside.

I’m sorry this is so long… I think m’gonna stop talking because my sinuses are closing up and my throat is burning. Um, I’ll go n-now. Just—fuck you. Please text me or call be back. Please.”

The message blipped off.

For a moment, he was frozen solid, staring back at his reflection through the dark window at his shoulder. I’m so fucking mad but I still care. Then, in an instant, Wonwoo had wished he never listened to the voicemail. He tore out his earbuds and bundled them up, shoving them into his pocket alongside his phone.

He was on the precipice of a horrifying change, but he didn’t know exactly what—just that he was looking at something so smooth and grey and warmed up from the blistered sun.

He was looking at the rock.

—JULY 22ND.

By the time Wonwoo had returned to his apartment last night, he was dead tired—a zombie, practically—scuffing his feet against the wooden flooring with his suitcase rolling behind. Face-planting upon the bed that hadn’t felt the dip from his body weight in a week, he thought he would rest his drooping eyes and give himself a moment to settle. Except it wasn’t just a moment, it was hours and hours of sleep that felt like a single second. When he woke up, his arm was completely numbed from being tucked under his cheek.

It had actually scared him. Wonwoo immediately shot up, staring down at the lifeless limb which he couldn’t move an inch.

“Fuck…” he mumbled to himself hoarsely, squinting against the sunlight which blinded the bedroom. “How long was I out…”

Digging the latter hand into his pants pocket, he let the blood slowly tingle back into his other arm while checking the time on his phone. However, the device was dead. For all he knew, it was the year three-thousand and there would be flying cars and Blade Runner infomercials gleaming in the city smog. Once he was able to move his arm, Wonwoo slid off the bed and laid down his suitcase, beginning to zip open the compartment.

His charger was packed perfectly on top.

Letting his phone recharge on the bedside table, he returned to unpacking. His laptop, toothbrush, books, socks, pairs of underwear and oversized shirts—he stored everything back in its appropriate place, tossing the occasional article into his laundry hamper, until the suitcase was nearly emptied. The only item which remained inside was a small plastic bottle, translucent orange, baring a white prescription label with a few pills remaining side.

His venlafaxine.

Wonwoo had started taking the medication again, roughly a week after his fight with you. Upon completely losing his ability to sleep or eat or survive an entire day without crippling in on himself like the world was a sinkhole waiting for him to slip, Wonwoo came to the realization that—what the fuck—he didn’t have to plainly suffer, and that all the time he spent ignoring the drug because he couldn’t even value his life enough to swallow one tiny pill was a useless, cruel disregard for the body that tried so fucking hard to protect him.

Even when it didn’t feel like it.

By the time Wonwoo ate breakfast—a simple piece of toast with peanut butter—his phone was halfway charged.

1:01 pm.

He’d slept for thirteen hours straight.

“Get over it, Wonwoo. Don’t overreact... c’mon, c’mon, don’t give me that sad little face… it was funny!”

“Leave me alone.”

“No.”

“Leave me alone, please.”

“No.”

“Bohyuk! Stop!”

“Stop what?!”

“You’re poking me! Bastard…”

“Oh, you just said a curse word. Mom is gonna be so mad. Kids your age aren’t supposed to start swearing yet.”

“Tell her. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Well, what if she takes away your books? I bet you’ll get upset then, won’t you? Or those weird little playing cards you have. What if she’s so mad, she burns them! You’ll cry yourself to sleep like a little baby.”

“I said stop touching me!”

“Or what? What? Nothing to say?”

“No.”

“Figures.”

“… I told you I want to be alone.”

“I know you do. And I let you sit here sulking. But now I’m just trying to get you to talk instead of mope. When you’re in a bad mood, it puts mom in a bad mood, and then I have to suffer with both of you being all brooding and cranky. Talking is an important skill, you know? Especially when you’re all pissed off. ”

“Mom is always cranky.”

“And you double it.”

“Shut up.”

“I really don’t understand why I’m the piece of shit, here. We always play Lifeguard at the water park. Now you want to throw a tantrum because, what? It was funny!”

“You left me there, Bohyuk! Alone!”

“Okay, so what? Did you die, Wonwoo? Did you get banned from the park? Did you ruin your entire life?”

“No…”

“Exactly. It was uncomfortable, and you didn’t like the situation. I get that. But you put yourself in that position, alright? Stupid shit always happens when we play that game. You know the consequences. We’ve been over this before. Remember when you threw that life preserver on my head and almost gave me a concussion? I was pissed at you. But you’re a kid, and you weren’t really thinking, and I should’ve known. That’s why I didn’t curse you out. Let’s say we both learned a lesson from this and call it a day, huh? C'mon, the bucket is filling up. Let's catch it before we leave.”

—JULY 28th.

Wonwoo was sitting in a wicker-back chair downstairs in the pottery shop, his laptop placed on the corner of a table that had been covered with a white, plasticky sheet. The white was hardly visible through all the smears and stains attributed to month-old dried paint and clay. His landlord had asked him if he would oblige to waiting for the mugs her last class had just sculpted to finish drying in the kiln while she ran to the bank. An egg timer was placed on the desk in her office, and Wonwoo could hear it ticking away in the background.

The door to the shop had been propped open using a mandala decorated rock, and while Wonwoo browsed along an online book on his laptop, he partly listened to the miscellaneous bits and pieces of conversation pushed indoors by the midday summer wind.

Initially, he’d dreaded coming back to the city after the week-long repose at his uncle’s, but in truth, Wonwoo was adjusting better than anticipated. Maybe because he was attempting to look after himself more than usual—he was actually taking his medication and he’d weened himself from frequent, almost daily smoking to once every few days, though Wonwoo did realize his bud was getting low and the only person he knew to inquire for more was Vernon. He hadn’t seen his friend in person since the party, and their texting had admittedly dwindled ever since Wonwoo fought with you.

That was just over a month ago now.

Wonwoo had gone an entire month without texting you, talking to you, seeing you. He was doing better, feeling lighter.

But there remained one core part of him that was still very incomplete and damaged. Suddenly, Wonwoo was shivering in his seat. The warm sun was brightening up the shop and reflecting its light off the stained glass windchimes dangling from the ceiling, though he chose to blame the chill on the breeze trickling indoors.  

Deep down, however, Wonwoo knew he’d done something wrong. So, very, very wrong. He’d hurt you like a bullet through bone.

“Okay, this is it, right?”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo glanced up from his laptop, where he’d been staring into the screen with a glazed over and distant expression. Instead, he saw a young woman, about his age, walk into the pottery shop hand-in-hand with a little girl who couldn’t have been older than twelve. For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t recognize the woman’s features—chin length, wavy hair, coarse and russet brown, tanned skin and a face polka dotted with freckles. Piece by piece, the memory rebuilt itself in his mind and he felt somewhat stupid.

“Oh—jeez, Wonwoo! What the heck—you’re like, the last person I would expect to run into here. Wow, it’s been a while!”

“Uh, yeah. Since the party, I guess.”

Sierra, the girl who’d fashioned together his drink.

“Yeah. That feels like forever ago... what’re you doing here?”

He pushed down on the laptop lid and sat up straighter in the wicker chair, accidentally looking into the eyes of the girl who was shyly clinging to Sierra’s side. She immediately glanced elsewhere.

“I live here, actually.”

“Oh! That’s cool,” Sierra smiled. “Your family owns it, or?”

“No. The lady who runs the pottery shop also has ownership of the units upstairs. She rents them out. I live up there.” He pointed his finger toward the ceiling as to emphasis his point.

“Okay, okay, that make a lot more sense. Still really cool.”

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh—yeah. So, this is my younger sister, Cora,” Sierra explained, grabbing onto the petite girl’s shoulder. “She was supposed to have her first class today, but she was feeling, um—well, you know how kids are. She’s just a bit shy. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, of course not,” Wonwoo concurred, noting the resemblance between the two. “I was deathly shy when I was little.”

“Right? We were just gonna stop by to meet to the teacher ahead of her next class. I thought it might make everything easier.”

Wonwoo frowned. “She left, actually.”

“Shoot, really?”

“Yeah, said she had to run to the bank. I’m sitting down here because I’m waiting for the pottery to finish drying in the kiln. I would give you an ETA, but I have no idea when she’s coming back.”

Glancing down at her sister, Sierra ruffled the girl’s hair.

“That sucks, huh?”

But she said nothing, just clung tightly to the back of Sierra’s yellow shirt, deciding to nod her head in response. Sierra shrugged.

“Is she usually here around this time?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo confirmed, “you could try again tomorrow.”

“Okay, wicked. I would wait but I’ve got a list of errands for today and I’m not even halfway through. And I’m sure Cora wouldn’t want to sit around, anyway. We just got a pool put in at the house.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Do you swim?”

“No, not at all. The most I do is dip my feet in.”

“Aw, boo,” she said with dismay, shoulders sagging. “Well, it was nice running into you, Wonwoo. And—um, it might not be your thing, but I work at the Honeymoon almost every night—like, six to midnight. So, if you’re ever in Centertown, you should stop by.”

“Oh, good to know.”

“M��kay, later!”

Wonwoo waved. “Bye, guys.”

Once they left the pottery shop, Wonwoo set his elbows onto the plastic-sheeted table and leaned into his cold hands, sighing heavily as the egg timer continued ticking. Sierra was polite. She seemed warm like the sunshine and beautifully sincere. Wonwoo could read from her tender brown eyes that she desired more out of him—a friendship, a relationship, maybe something blissful, blurred, and in between. Though, it was nothing Wonwoo could give her.

He thought about the comment she made in regards to their pool—if he ever swam. Wonwoo didn’t swim, not since that horrible incident of Lifeguard all those years ago, back at the waterpark he used to attend alongside his older brother. Still, it got him thinking.

Reverting to his desktop, he looked for a folder.

writing.footage

It contained all the video clips he’d taken of you with the camcorder throughout your writing journey. He had every single one, from the grassy running ring at the high school to the footage he’d taken of the evening sky the day you two visited the beach.

His mouse hovered over a clip.

Fuck—he really shouldn’t do that. Every moment would sting like a red hot, peeling sunburn. The mouse moved away from the video clip and Wonwoo sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand against his face at the near torment. But… it had been so long. He missed you.

“Whatever…” he sighed to himself, clicking the video.

It took a moment to start up.

“Okay! So, this is Mooney’s Bay. It encompasses chapter three, and—Wonwoo, you have to film my intro! Why are you filming the sand?”

“Sorry, the lighting’s not good.”

“Oh.”

“Stand this way.”

“Those people will get in the shot.”

“Who cares? They’re far away.”

“I’ll stand in front of them… okay, are you zoomed in?”

“You told me not to zoom in.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Remember when I zoomed in and you said I shouldn’t do that because it doesn’t capture the scenery properly?”

“Well, I said that because you were zooming in on me when you were supposed to be getting the ambiance shots! That’s why I said don’t zoom in. You can zoom in for the intro. Is the light better?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Does my hair look good? Actually, do you think it’s too windy? I’m worried about it being too windy, and then I can’t hear my introduction. I have to be able to hear my introduction. I’m really nervous. Wait—let me take off my flip flops. There’s so much sand in them and I hate it. Okay. Am I covering the people?”

“Yes.”

“Should I start now?”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay. So, this is Mooney’s Bay, and… and… wait—oh no! I forget my lines. What was I supposed to say, again?”

“I’m not sure, it’s your script. Something about chapter three.”

“Oh, I remember now! Okay, again from the top. Cut this out!”

He remembered that warm day as clear as the bay’s shiny water—specifically, the plethora of takes he had to film because you kept fudging up the script typed out on your phone. Wonwoo surfed through the rest of the clips pertaining to the beach, smiling to himself whenever you would fumble the words for the umpteenth time and groan in sheer frustration. Eventually, the backdrop turned from blue skies to an evening sunset. You two had spent hours there, and the filming had ended with tangy lemonade and watermelon.

He moved to a different assortment of clips.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, introduce the flavour. Like show and tell.”

“Oh, like a vlog?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. This is my flavour: it’s strawberry cheesecake. The red bits are the strawberries and those chunks are the cheesecake. I picked it because this is the flavour I got when I went on my first date with Mingyu. I love strawberries the most. Cheesecake is my favourite cake. Um… I don’t really know what else to say…”

“Where’d you get it from?”

“Oh—from The Big Chill!”

“What would you rate it?”

“Like, seven out of ten.”

“Not perfect even though it’s your favourite things?”

“Well—because the ice cream is too hard. I like soft ice cream. If I waited like, ten minutes, then ate some, it would be higher.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Okay! You’re not supposed to be inserting your personal comments! You’re just supposed to say prompts and stuff. Don’t make me revoke your camera privileges.”

“You know anybody else with my camera operating skills?”

“Seokmin.”

“He couldn’t film his way out of a paper bag.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t already said.”

The abrupt end to the video made Wonwoo sink down in his chair with a dumb, wide smile. You did in fact, wait the entire ten minutes for your ice cream to significantly melt in the cup, then forcing Wonwoo to watch with unfiltered judgement as you stirred it up like a smoothie. You said it helped with your sensitive teeth.

He could understand that.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to watch much more, he chose one final clip to open—the most recent one he’d taken. It was from the day you raced home in the rain after exploring the nature museum, right before Princess had swung by to pick you up. He had been fooling around with the camcorder while you two sat on the couch.

“… Um, so… do you care if I keep this shirt? It’s a good bedtime shirt, and I don’t really have any. I mean, only if you say it’s okay.”

“Uh, sure. I hardly wear it anymore, to be honest.”

“Oh. What’s it from?”

“A math competition thing. If you straighten that part out… that’s Euler’s number… this other one is your classic integral.”

“Hm, yeah. That’s such a great conversation starter. Have you guys ever heard about the integral symbol? Such a classic!”

“You jest but it got me quite a bit of recognition.”

“Like you want recognition.”

“Yeah, that’s why I stopped wearing it.”

“Ah, okay.  So if I wear it out, will I get random geeks coming up to me on the street asking about it?”

“Probably.”

“Mm, okay. I’ll keep it.”

“You want that, huh?”

“Yes, so when they come up to me, I can say I have a really smart, talented, loser friend who owns it. So I can brag about you.”

“That’s… nice, I suppose. Can you drop the loser part?”

“No. It’s to keep you humble.”

“Seriously? Life has already humbled me enough, I think.”

The clip ended, and Wonwoo was staring back at himself in the screen’s black reflection. He could recall that oddly hollow feeling which situated uncomfortably large in the pit of his stomach when he realized how much he missed you.

But how could he not yearn for you? When you were so captivating, and infinitely brilliant, and stubbornly hard-headed in a tantalizing way that made him feel completely alive and invigorated.

I fucked up—it was all he could think as he pushed his laptop away and buried his head into his arms—I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up and I pushed away the most amazing girl I’ve ever known.

Suddenly, the small egg timer that had been sitting on the landlord’s desk a room away erupted. It started rattling and clanging and while Wonwoo should have shot up from his seat to turn it off and check the sculpted mugs cooking in the kiln, he stayed in his seat.

He felt glued to it.

All he could think about was how badly he needed to talk to you, hear your voice, see your face, smell your scent. Maybe he didn’t deserve it—Wonwoo knew he didn’t—but he loved you too much.

He couldn’t let you fade into a deep, dark memory.

—JULY 30th.

Wonwoo hadn’t been to his favourite café on Sunnyside Avenue for almost two months. He was therefore quite surprised at their new interior upon giving into a last-minute whim—visiting for a quick coffee. They had finally swapped their metal chairs for more cushiony seats, and the circle tabletops for square, wooden ones. The style of chalk writing on the overhead menu boards had changed, too.

He didn’t even recognize the baristas.

Usually, Wonwoo only stopped at the café to work on his writing and indulge in a raspberry lemon scone that was supposed to be a treat for having been productive, though he always ate it before a single word would ever grace the paper. Since he began helping you with your book back in March, he frequented the café less and less. It brought a smile to his face, recalling the incident of you slapping your hand against the window and jarring him half to death.

He used to be so afraid of you. Never would he imagine the comfort you’d end up bestowing him—and the fact he’d lose it all.

“I can help whoever’s next!”

Turning his attention from the corner where his old table used to sit—now occupied by two girls sharing a latte and giggling as they perused their phones—Wonwoo approached the barista he failed to recognize, waiting to take his order. Realizing he’d lost his metaphorical loyalty badge and that he could no longer just coolly toss out, ‘the usual’, Wonwoo had to remember what it was he even liked.

“Just an iced coffee,” he said, “and, uh… do you still have those scones with the raspberry and lemon filling?”

As the barista pressed something into the tablet screen, he shook his head. “Unfortunately they’re not made here anymore.”

“Oh, damn.”

“We do have a new strawberry scone, though, for summer. It’s got a confectionary sugar drizzle. It’s pretty popular.”

“Uh, don’t worry about it, I’ll just take the coffee.”

“No problem, man. Total is three ninety-nine.”

“Card, thanks.”

It might have been stupid, but Wonwoo couldn’t think about strawberries without thinking of you, because you always smelled like a sweet, ripe, and vibrantly red strawberry—it was the scent of your skin, which he so pathetically missed feeling warm and velvet against his. He bet one-hundred percent you would have ordered that scone.

After tapping his phone against the card reader, Wonwoo stepped aside and waited for his coffee. It was a Sunday. He had work tomorrow. There wasn’t much happening in his life.

“Iced coffee, right here.”

The barista slid the cardboard cup across the counter. Wonwoo grabbed it with a polite thank you, and then settled an inspecting glance around the café for a place to sit. He shouldn’t have come in the afternoon—it was always their busiest hours apart from early morning—and it seemed the redesign had promptly boosted their relevance, because Wonwoo couldn’t remember a time when the tables had ever been so filled. He stepped further into the seating area, though, someone familiar had just caught his eye.

Princess.

She was sat at a table close to some beautifully potted ferns and palm leaves, typing on a laptop while a plate with a half-finished sandwich and a plastic cup of matcha remained by her elbow. At the exact moment that Wonwoo saw her, Princess had also looked up, and as though by magic, their gazes caught without hesitation.

At first, Wonwoo panicked. The breath dropped out of his chest and he pondered waving to her, turning tail, and fleeing. There was not a single doubt in his mind that she was aware of the fight between you and him—she was your best friend—and Wonwoo knew from the manner in which her lips apprehensively curled into a numb smile that Princess already knew everything. Still, she waved at him.

Wonwoo gulped, waving back.

Maybe it was an indescribably stupid decision, but Wonwoo opted to swallow the fear and dread and anxiety in his throat. If she didn’t want him to sit with her, then he trusted that Princess would make such a boundary extremely clear—but Wonwoo had to try. He had to make some sort of initiative, some form of amends, and above all, he wanted to know about you, even if the answer hurt terribly.

“Uh, hey… how are you?”

Princess’ tattooed hands stilled on the keyboard. She flitted her round, deep brown eyes up at him, and he felt frustrated that he could extract little to nothing from their depths. Again, she smiled.

“I’m alright. Just working on some forms for work.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Do you, uh… do you care if I sit?”

She didn’t speak, but continued to stare at him with a lip worried between her teeth, and it was then Wonwoo could realize the conflict swimming through her gaze. The panic started to build again, and the regret surged into his stomach like a tsunami.

“Really, I don’t mean to make things awkward,” Wonwoo was urged to clarify, the cold cup feeling increasingly slippery in his clammy hand, “I can go. I don’t want to cause any problems."

“No, no—” Princess shook her head, meanwhile her tone remained strained and uncertain, “—it’s okay. Uh, yeah. Sure. Take a seat. I mean, it’s plenty full in here. I’m not that busy.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You can sit, Wonwoo.”

He exhaled softly, proceeding to pull out the chair. It felt quite nice sitting against a cushion rather than the hard metal he remembered.

Princess reached for her matcha, placing the straw between her lips and taking a long, heavy sip as though to prepare herself for the awkward nature of their incoming conversation. Wonwoo did the same. He didn’t even know where to start. Was it better to burn off his nerves through small talk or jump straight into the heat?

She moved the long braids off her shoulder, heaved in a breath.

“Well, let’s just get the bulk of this talk out of the way. I know what happened. I know you’re not friends with Her anymore. I know the way it ended was super ugly. I know that she spent, like, three days at my apartment, miserable, in tears over you, Wonwoo. So, I do feel a certain way toward you. I hope you can understand that.” She closed the lid of her laptop and sighed. “But, we’re adults. And I guess I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about… some things.”

“No, I—I get that.”

Already, he wanted to throw up. Despite all his repressing, he could still hear that choked, vulnerable, completely broken sob you croaked out the day you left his apartment—how mercilessly it had haunted him for the entire week—made him believe he was a monster, a masochist, the lowest form of human being. Wonwoo felt there was no excusing it. He would always hate himself for it.

“What are you curious about?” Wonwoo asked quietly.

Princess glanced down for a second, staring at the smooth, black surface of her laptop. She then clicked her nails together.

“I-I just… how could it… how could it go so wrong?” The girl wondered aloud, leaning back into her chair, seeming despaired at the aftermath. “From the second I saw her get defensive of you at Spring Street, I knew how much she cared. I knew that you meant something to her and for whatever reason, she wasn’t going to let anyone screw it up. And she became so much lighter. Everything wasn’t an attack. Everything she did wasn’t so agonizing anymore.”

Wonwoo’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing underneath the table, the nervous energy accumulating rather than draining away. He wished he had the perfect answer, but he couldn’t yet find one.

Her head tilted, shoulders shrugging. “I don’t know… I thought you could be so good for Her. She doesn’t have anyone in her life that’s like you. But—I mean—fuck, we’re here, now, aren’t we?”

“Mmhm,” Wonwoo mumbled, staring straight into the girl’s shiny, unwavering eyes that held so much sentiments of angst and betrayal, like she herself was carrying your rage. “Princess… I… I want, so fucking bad, to give you a good answer for why everything blew up. I do. But—just—every time I try to look inward, every time I try to understand it at its core, I feel like it’s all shrouded. I know I fucked up. I know it. She made—makes—me happy, too. But I’m not there yet.”

“You’re not where?” She asked, pressing forward. “At a place where you can understand what you did? Why you did it?”

Fiddling with his cup atop its cork coaster, Wonwoo nodded.

He then chewed into his bottom lip, feeling the skin break.

“Can I ask… what did you think of me? When she told you what happened? If you have to be brutally uncouth, I don’t care.”

Princess abruptly laughed at the request, head tumbling forward into her gold-ringed hands. He wasn’t sure if she would oblige, as the laugh sounded nervous yet tinged with disbelief, which led Wonwoo to believe she had thought some very unpleasant things.

“Um… let’s see...” she chuckled hesitantly, smoothing antsy hands along her dark skin, “I was definitely gagged, let’s start there.”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know—I just—I didn’t believe that you would be capable of being such a fucking asshole. I mean—” she collapsed back into the chair, throwing up her arms, “—can you blame me? You’re quiet, well-mannered, intelligent. Everyone loved you at the party. I think the fact you could turn around and be so… s-so cruel, so hostile, like you were—I don’t know—trying to gut her, just seemed impossible. But Her doesn’t lie. She has no reason to make it up. I wasn’t able to think much at all because I went comfort mode. I just wanted to focus on getting her mind off you.”

“And… afterward?”

“Well, I wanted to destroy you, obviously.”

“… Fair.”

“So, can I ask you something?”

Instantly, his stomach dropped to his feet, and Wonwoo was certain his face had paled like a washed-out t-shirt. Princess’ gaze settled upon him with intense focus. Wonwoo scratched at his thumb.

“Okay.”

“… Do you love her?”

He didn’t answer. Even if he wanted to, the words erased from his mind in a mere snap of one’s fingers. Instead, Wonwoo stared at the girl while she politely waited for a sign, knowing his very loud, lacking response was an answer enough in itself if his eyes weren’t already panicked and practically writing the narrative for him. To admit his true heart to another person was the most horrifying predicament Wonwoo could articulate. He was far from capable.

Princess raised her brow. “I’ll take that as a—”

“You can’t tell Her. Please, please, please, whatever you do, whatever you think of me—just, please don’t tell Her,” Wonwoo blurted, the perspiration drenching the palms that sunk into his knees. “I-I don’t know what I’ll do if she finds out. Really, I—”

“Wonwoo.” Princess reached under the table, and he felt her cool, soft hand settle overtop his. “I’m not going to say anything to anyone, okay? Just breathe. You look like you’re going to have—"

“Don’t say it,” he exhaled shakily, “I-I know…”

He proceeded to close his eyes, draw in a long, deep, thorough breath, while his knee continued jittering and his chest felt so tight and twisted with fear. He closed his eyes and recalled the washroom belonging to his aunt’s house in rural Changwon, with the bright blue shower curtain and its pattern of yellow rubber ducks. 

Wonwoo counted all the rubber ducks on that childhood curtain, the number having been scorched into his mind like a scar, until he felt the world fall back into tune. The steadiness of Princess’ hand over top his was a gentle reminder that he was indeed alive and not a puddle of mistakes melted to the café floor. Pushing up the glasses that had slipped down his nose, he reopened his eyes to see the girl’s the sympathetic, earnest face. Wonwoo cleared his throat.

“Um, yeah—I’m okay… just—uh, th-thank you.”

She pulled her hand away, smiling, “no problem.”

The two proceeded to sit in silence as Wonwoo further collected his bearings. He glanced around the café, recognizing no one else amongst the crowd, and spotting more and more modifications that had appeared since his last visit—the light fixtures overhead were different, the decorative wall art had been replaced, and the baristas were all wearing hats with a new, improved logo. So much had developed in his absence. So much had to change.

He looked at his iced coffee, which he took a sip from, and realized that he didn’t prefer the taste quite like he used to.

Wonwoo sighed, pushing the drink away from him.

“Princess?”

“Yeah?”

“I know I don’t deserve this. I know that me even asking this might seem so unprecedentedly stupid. Her probably doesn’t want you talking to me, which I get, and I know you feel conflicted about me being here… but… fuck… Princess, I have to know something about Her. Anything. I don’t care if it’s the smallest, most insignificant detail you could think of. Just one thing… that’s all.”

The delivery was undoubtedly begging, perhaps pathetic, but he could not find it within himself to care. He missed you too fucking much, to the point it was becoming insufferable, unliveable.

Folding one leg over the other, Princess leaned back and grabbed onto her matcha, spinning it slightly. She was no longer meeting his eyeline, and that drowned his hopes in a watery grave.

He settled his elbows onto the table, his finger gripping at the air with every pleading word that he could somehow conjure.

“I know you don’t want to; I-I know it. I know she fucking hates me, detests me, wishes we never met. But this is the most regretful I’ve ever been, a-about anything in my life. And—I know that I’m pushing you—I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry—if I can just know one thing, I’ll leave you alone. I-I mean, is she… did she get a new shirt, after that one ripped, on the hanger? Does she still go to the SSA meetings? Or—I don’t fucking know—is she writing? Is she doing something new? Have you seen her smile at all? Or heard her laugh? Genuinely laugh. The one where she can’t even breathe and she grips onto you and buries her head into your neck? Is she still just as quippy? Constantly rambling over herself? I miss that so much… I miss all of it… everything about her… there’s nothing I don’t miss.”

Princess was biting her lip, refusing to say a word.

Wonwoo hadn’t intended to barrage her. Nonetheless, he couldn’t leave the café without wholeheartedly trying.

“Fuck…” he exhaled, placing his forehead against the black wood of the table, breathing back the bitterness, the frustration, the tears. Princess was a boulder, it seemed. He’d lost, picking his head back up after a moment of composure, and pushed out his chair.

“You’re leaving?” She asked, her gaze heavy with sadness.

He nodded. “I just—I… yeah.”

“Okay… later.”

“Bye, Princess,” he answered, his throat irritably tight.

“… Well—o-okay, actually…”

As her voice picked up amongst the cluttering dishes and drawls of conversation, Wonwoo turned around to see the girl’s remorseful expression and the hands shoved tightly under her arms. Princess paused, staring at the coffee mug he’d abandoned at the table.

“… She needs you.”

Wonwoo stiffened, then nearly scoffed in disagreement.

“She hates me. What do you mean?”

But Princess shook her head, making a twisting motion at her lips like she was fastening the lock to a chest. It was her one thing.

And Wonwoo had no idea what to make of it.

It had been far too long since Wonwoo last texted, spoke to, or saw Vernon. When he left for an entire week to stay at his uncle’s cottage in the midst of July,  he hadn’t even shot the boy a message that he was leaving. As cold or uncompassionate as it may have sounded, Wonwoo never really considered Vernon to be that important or necessary to his life until he sat back and thought about their relationship: a studious loner with an unperturbed drug dealer who somehow formed a bond that hadn’t predictably eroded.

Sure, it helped that Vernon became his plug and there was technically a reason for their symbiosis, but what Wonwoo hadn’t taken note of was their closeness over the months.

Perhaps it was guilt, or the sting of losing you and having experienced Princess treat him like an ugly secret, or the simplistic, innate need for human contact, that Wonwoo finally decided to reach out and invite the boy over for a smoke. Vernon agreed, though it wasn’t until the near cusp of midnight that he stopped by. Together they sat on the complex rooftop, two perfectly packed blunts between them, lit by their sparking lighters. The conversation drifted from topic to topic like a passive leaf being tugged through a breeze.

Wonwoo was able to realize how desperately he needed a moment like that—no guards, no anxiety, no hyper-analyzing every little goddamn comment or action—just friendship.

And Vernon made it easy.

“Not to mention the fact that Seokmin—he fuckin’ sucks at mini-puttin’ by the way. Jesus Christ, man. There was a twelve-year-old girl a hole behind us who was makin’ shots like Tiger Woods, and then here we are, waitin’ for Seokmin to make a shot that is damn near impossible to—like, okay—tell me why he’s got one leg on the fuckin’ rock and the other stretched halfway across the laneway like he's droppin’ into the splits? Why does it need t’be that hard!”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo half-laughed, half-coughed into his elbow, the smoke instantly rushing back out his mouth.

“Holy fuck. I wish I’d seen that in person.”

“No,” Vernon deadpanned, rolling up his sleeves, “you don’t. At that point, just pick up the ball and move it into the hole, man. That twelve-year-old’s got places to be and we’re over here climbin’ on rocks and crawlin’ under bridges like it’s a fuckin’ jungle gym.”

“I’m surprised they even let you in.”

“Oh—me too,” he chuckled. “Fuck someone once in the storage closet at glow-in-the-dark mini-put and suddenly you’re ‘a detriment to the company.’ Like, get the fuck outta my face.”

“You live, you learn.”

“Well, she’s still there. Somehow.”

“Ruby?”

“Yeah—just sold her like two-hundred bucks of ecstasy.”

Wonwoo threw his head back and cackled.

“You still talk to her?!”

“No, no—Ruby’s chill! Always came to work stoned half the time, though. Dude, no. It was the other girl that fuckin’ ratted on us.”

“Damn… so, is Ruby the one?” Wonwoo teased.

As Vernon removed the joint from his lips, a swift trail of smoke ejected into the nighttime air. He huffed in disagreement.

“Nah. She’s a good friend you can screw on the low. Know you guys won’t catch feelings. Makes it easy. That’s what I’m about.”

“Yeah. Simple enough.”

Scraping his thumb against the rough spark wheel of his favourite Bic, Wonwoo lit the small, dancing flame, bringing it close to his blunt and crisping the paper more heavily. He proceeded to draw in a long, smooth breath. The atmosphere was almost silent if not for the distant murmur of midnight traffic. Wonwoo watched the abundant smoke as it slowly streamed out his nose. It eventually dissipated against the blackness, existing just long enough for Wonwoo to appreciate that weightless sensation it gave him.

Vernon swept a hand through his hair, smiled at Wonwoo.

“Okay, so, feel free to tell me to fuck off—” the boy began with notable caution, taking a quick hit before removing the blunt from his lips “—but, uh, what exactly… did happen… between you and Her?”

For a moment, the vigilantly placed question hovered in the cool summer air as Wonwoo breathed out another cloud. However, he didn’t let the smoke disappear on its own, rather he blew into it harshly and forced the flurry to melt. One way or another, he knew this topic would surface. And Vernon was right—he completely had the right to tell his friend to fuck off—because no matter how much time had passed since, Wonwoo still felt the wound with all the freshness and intensity of that night. He remained stiff, thinking.

Sensing the reluctancy, Vernon abandoned his request.

“Y’know, it doesn’t matter. We’re havin’ fun, anyway.”

Wonwoo was going to agree—yeah, let’s skip it—but at the last second, he burned the reliable safety of his choice. The thing was, he hadn’t really discussed the fight with anybody. Sitting down and talking to Princess didn’t bestow the alleviation or closure that Wonwoo thought it would, especially considering her loyalty to you and the fact she hadn’t desired that conversation more than she desired a hole in the head. He was able to relieve some tension upon visiting his uncle’s, but, ultimately, Wonwoo was doing the exact thing you had accused him of—letting things sit and fester.

Shutting everyone out.

Poisoning himself, and those around him.

After tugging at the edge of his thick beanie, Wonwoo rubbed a knuckle against his forehead and decided to bite the bullet.

“Uh, no—all good. You’re curious, I get it.”

Vernon’s eyes widened underneath the moonlight and the warm, glowing radiance that crept over the building precipice. He nearly choked on the smoke.

“Wait—dude. Really?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo angled his face toward him, nodding.

“Okay, uh… wow. Wasn’t expectin’ to get this far.”

“Need a moment to catch your breath, yeah?”

“Psh—shut the fuck up, Glasses… actually—no, yeah. Let me take a hit first. I feel like this is gonna be a deep-dish pizza, y’know?”

“Somewhat, I suppose,” Wonwoo agreed.

He copied his friend, crisping the blunt one last time before pressing his lips around the paper and drawing in a big breath.

Right before the prickling could desiccate his throat, Wonwoo exhaled everything into the abrupt breeze—not just the smoke, but his fears, his worries—whatever might stunt or thwart him from understanding that it wasn’t so terrifying to be candour.

Vernon shook out his shoulders.

“Okay, player. You’ve got my attention.”

Wonwoo swallowed.

How the fuck does one go about saying this?

“So, uh…”

Where does he even start?

“I guess the important part is…”

What’s going to happen if he chokes on all his words?

“Okay, so, we basically… um…”

Wonwoo, you have spent practically your entire life writing and crafting sentences and the most adolescent, tormented prose imaginable—how is it that you cannot configure one thought?

“I’m… I’m kind of in love with her.”

He thought about glancing at Vernon to gauge his reaction, especially when his friend didn’t offer one word in response, not even a pointed hmph, or a sniffle, or something satirical to suggest that all his teasing had some actual truth and substance.

But Wonwoo didn’t look.

Vernon was giving him the floor to keep going.

“And… that night, at the party, we had this really sincere moment… I mean, maybe it wasn’t that sincere—she’d just done a line of coke and had been sipping alcohol and smoking all night. But that’s how it felt when it was happening. After the bullshit with Bells, I took her to a spare bedroom to calm down. She asked me to lay with her.”

Wonwoo paused to collect his breathing. Even just the memory of your body pressed against his was enough to rake up those buried emotions from his insides like old, autumn leaves. The memories of your heat, and the giggling into his neck, and the way your fingers would occasionally trace shapes on his chest as you listened to him talk—nothing had ever felt so cosmically right.

“Um… yeah. I don’t know why I agreed. I didn’t care about if it was wrong or right. If Mingyu came barging in, or someone else, or—fuck, if the goddamn roof caved in—I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with her so fucking bad. We didn’t kiss or anything. We just laid there together, like, intertwined, you know? I told her some stuff. We were just talking… I think, in my mind, I just wanted to have this moment where I was something to her, more than a friend. And I just—I put this stupid fucking notion in my head that it was true.”

Eyes squeezed shut, blunt poised between his fingers, Wonwoo rode the high of another hit, ignoring the deep, sensitive pain cutting his bone marrow. He kept excavating despite the hurt.

“But—I-I mean, a girl like that?” He laughed, head bending down between his propped knees. “A girl like that, you know? She is so—sh-she’s—I shouldn’t want her at all. I should want nothing to do with her. But—I don’t know—she has drive, and things she’s passionate about, and she can be so unrelenting and fucking bossy, but then so soft, and calm, and I just get drawn into her like a moth to a flame. I think everything’s okay, you know? I don’t get that… that dread—that feeling like I’m constantly failing, and useless, and like everything is out to get me.”

Wonwoo hadn’t glanced at Vernon once. He didn’t want to.

That way, it felt like he was alone, talking to himself, maybe talking to the moon. It erased the veil of pressure and eased his typically constrained, rigid muscles. Feeling his glasses begin to slip, Wonwoo lifted his head, pushing the circled frames back up his nose.

“I don’t know why it’s like that. I don’t know why it’s her, specifically. Sometimes I wish it wasn’t. She has Mingyu to love. And it just—it fucking frustrates me so much—" Wonwoo breathed out the irritation, licking his lips, “—because we’re having this sweet moment, and it’s so perfect, and right. But then all of a sudden, he’s just—he—she's letting him fuck her. Like that moment we had was nothing, like I didn’t just be the most open I’ve ever been with her. And—I know, I know—she’s high as fuck and not thinking straight. So, what do I chalk us up to, then? A bad trip? A blur in time? A moment you live once and then just forget? What the fuck do I make of that?”

Something crackled inside him, akin to match being lit, palpable enough that it motivated the boy to his feet because this cramped, knees-to-chest position wouldn’t suffice in channeling the energy he felt. Wonwoo moved the blunt to his lips, attempting to speak while it hung at the corner of his mouth, though he only left it there for a few seconds in his urgence for another hit. He started pacing.

“That was such a dogshit moment, you know? Going down there, wanting it to be a lie, almost believing it, but then—I hear it. I-I hear the way she’s getting fucked and I hear her moans and her whimpers and I hear the way he’s using her.” Wonwoo kicked a stone off the edge of the building, one hand shoved into his sweats pocket while the other fed him a brief inhalation from the blunt. “I’ve never felt that before. Awful. Like, indescribable devastation. I ran to the washroom to throw up because my body just couldn’t handle it. It felt like such a kick in the fucking teeth. And I was mad at her—like, fuck you for throwing back all that trust into my face, you know?”

He shook his head, then balancing at the rim of the complex like a fall from that height wouldn’t leave him broken.

“I was so fucking pissed at her…” Wonwoo muttered, staring down at the shadowed streets, “every time I thought about it, I just felt sick… but, obviously, we have to hash it out. That’s why she jumped you, or whatever—I wasn’t texting her back because I knew nothing good would come from it. Like I said, though… she’s unrelenting. Shows up at my door, banging on it like there’s a murderer outside. I was in a terrible headspace. I… I kind of…”

The words jammed on his tongue.

Wonwoo had to walk away from the ledge as a foggy sensation muddled his senses. Hands, beginning to tremble, pulled in torment down the back of his black beanie, the blunt caught between his fingers as he remembered the inexcusable maliciousness to his ranting. It echoed through his head like a gong.

He squatted down, rubbing at his wrinkled, aching brow.

“I… I basically—j-just—I tore her to fucking shreds.”

There was so much emotion clogging his throat. Every word was a struggle to enunciate, and each one burned and stung more tangibly than the last, as though he’d swallowed knives.

“It didn’t even feel good, you know? It wasn’t cathartic, or victorious. I felt like… do I even deserve anything? She went into the hall and… that sob. Oh my god… bawling her eyes out because of my stupidity. Because of my inability to be a fucking person as she mentioned.”

Wonwoo stared at the grit covering the roof.

He reached out his hand, letting the small bits of rubble stick to his fingertips, thinking, about everything, how he destroyed it. You were just a panicked river, trying to heal and soothe, but the message was lost under the current. Wonwoo had been a scalding fire, one that charred everything the instant it touched his vengeful heat.

There were only ashes. He didn’t know how to rebuild a relationship from something so fragile and ruined at his beckon.

The frustration was boiling in Wonwoo’s gut. All his shortcomings, the ignorance to the flaws he buried, how he treated you—it was all bubbling together like some sort of poisonous, infectious brew and if he didn’t somehow release pressure then he would crack like ceramics. Wonwoo maneuvered the thick blunt from his fingers into his palm where he crushed it, hard.

“Uh, Wonwoo? It’s… it’s okay, man. You—”

“Fuck!”

The tattered piece of crisped tobacco paper and grinded weed flew into the air, the breeze pulling the remnants somewhere unimportant. Vernon immediately smothered his words. He could only stare, frozen, as Wonwoo tore off his glasses, rubbing a sweater sleeve against the beginning pricks of tears that bulbed up from his eyes. He sucked in a long, shuddering, ragged breath.

“I fucking hate this, Vernon. I-I’m everything she said I was. I do it to myself. I always do it to myself. I want to change so badly but it never feels like it’s happening fast enough, a-an-and—and—and—”

“Glasses, relax, okay?”

Vernon was on his feet in an instant, quickly brushing his hands off against the fabric of his jeans, the blunt now tucked behind his ear. Wonwoo continued rubbing into his eyes. His friend’s face appearing before him was nothing but watery smudging, almost like a ruined oil painting. Wonwoo hiccupped.

“No—Vernon—y-you don’t understand, you—I-I fucked up, alright? I fucked up so bad! I—” he could hardly breathe, his glasses dropped somewhere on the roof, “—I just wrecked everything and—”

“Wonwoo! Jeon Wonwoo!” Vernon gripped his shoulders and shook them sternly. “Shut up! You’re takin’ all the fuckin’ air!”

The abruptness snapped a wire in Wonwoo’s brain. It was so unexpected that he almost wasn’t sure if it happened. However, his torrent of seemingly endless anxious thought began to falter, with a very slow but gradual concentration toward the softness rosying his friend’s blurred face. Vernon rubbed against Wonwoo’s trembling arm, and with a gentle tug, urged him to sit down.

“C’mon, get on your ass… there ‘ya go. Awesome. Now… where’s your—oh, shit—they’re right here. Lucky you, huh?”

Vernon crouched down in front of him.

As Wonwoo busied himself with carving those scratches against his thumb, Vernon extended a hand to his friend’s cheek.

“Let me rid get of these tears… so you… can actually… see…”

With a grunt, Vernon fell back onto his butt.

“Let’s put these on, yeah? Are you okay with that?”

Vernon seemed to accept the quietness as him not quite being ready, and so the boy settled for resting a tattooed hand on Wonwoo’s knee, familiarizing him with a grounding touch. In due time, Wonwoo was relaxed enough to properly swallow.

Vernon smiled at him.

“So, does Glasses need his glasses now?”

Wonwoo sniffled, imitating a rumbling sound to clear his brittle throat, meanwhile there was a breeze ghosting along his exposed nape. It was just as comforting as Vernon’s touch.

“Y-Yes… thank you.”

“Hey, no problem. I’m just glad they didn’t get crushed.”

When his friend’s calm face clarified in the silver moonlight, with his unjudgmental eyes, and his compassionate smile, Wonwoo began to realize that… perhaps, being trusting and vulnerable and honest was not the worst thing in the world. There was merit and relief. There was a friend waiting on the other side with an open hand.

“Vernon… I, um… I’m—”

“Listen, Glasses. If you’re gonna apologize to me, then shove it right back up your ass. Seriously. There’s no need.”

“Well, I mean…” Wonwoo wiped his runny nose, “I kind of unloaded on you, and, I didn’t intend for that. I really didn’t.”

“I asked you a loaded question in the first place, didn’t I? I ordered a deep-dish pizza and that’s what I fuckin’ got.”

“Well… I-I… I’m glad you can look at it that way.”

“God, Wonwoo. You’re actin’ like this was a total blindside. I know you, y’know? Maybe not to a tee, but I know you.” Vernon kept his hand against Wonwoo’s knee, dusting some grit from it. “And I know you’re gonna feel regretful about all this, but you shouldn’t, alright? ‘Cause, look—you did somethin’ that most people—they go their entire lives without doin’. You dug deep and acknowledged your flaws. And not just the pansy shit, like—oh, I’m bad at time management, I forget to put the dishes away, I don’t fill up the ice cube tray, I never reply to texts—I mean the real stuff.

The really dark, uncomfortable stuff that we know is there but it’s so much easier to ignore. The stuff that gets in the way of our happiness, or success, or connections—bein’ the sin-sincerest versions of ourselves—it’s so much easier to pack all that bad stuff down. It’s there but at least it’s not out here. But then, like, maybe one day it is out here. And it’s hurtin’ everything around you. And some people will still let it slide because there’s always somethin’ else to blame. What is that bullshit—acceptance is always the hardest part? I don’t fuckin’ know. Anyway, you should give yourself some credit, Glasses. Seriously. I’m proud.”

“Proud?” Wonwoo chuckled weakly, returning the warmth of his friend’s honeyed eyes. “That's such a mom thing to say.”

Vernon’s hand shifted to whacking Wonwoo’s arm. “Don't get smart.”

“No, uh—I’m joking. Thank you, Vernon… really.”

“Hey, I know I’m your drug dealer, but I consider us friends, y’know? And not every friend’s gotta be your support beam. But I think you’re someone worth supportin’… hey—that sounded pretty smart and eloquent, right? I’m basically you, now.”

Wonwoo smiled. “You're missing the glasses.”

“I’ll just take yours,” Vernon chided, giving his friend’s chest a light push, “what’re you gonna do, anyway? Four-eyes.”

“I think if you wore these for more than five minutes… you’d get a migraine,” Wonwoo supposed, watching Vernon nod his head.

“Damn. You’re probably right. Not worth it.”

“Mmhm…”

“… But, um… y’know what I do think is worth it?”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrow.

Vernon paused, as though to contemplate his response, but when the words left his mouth, there was pure firmness behind them.

“Man, you need to talk to Her.”

Pressing his lips together, Wonwoo stared off into the corner.

Vernon nudged his arm, attempting to engage him.

“I’m serious! You know she’s perfect for you, right? A bossy girl who’s about her shit but can soften up for you is exactly what you need. Girls like that—they care so fuckin’ much, y’know? And she’s majorly into you. I saw how she hugged you at the party. How she got all smiley and sweet. I mean, she was gonna punch Bells in the fuckin’ face to stop her from makin’ a move on you. She’s got a man, I know. And I’m not sayin’ be a fuckin’ homewrecker. But, like, I don’t know… Mingyu’s all image and no substance. A fuckin’ airhead.”

Wonwoo massaged along his forehead, chuckling.

“I thought you liked him.”

“Yeah, well, I liked him a lot more when he was handin’ me two-hundred ‘a Seungcheol’s bands. I know he just invited me to that party ‘cause I can get him n’ his rich friends high. I’m not stupid. Keep your enemies close, and your friends—wait, fuck—keep your—”

“Friends close and enemies closer?”

Vernon grinned, wide and gummy. “Bingo.”

“Good advice.”

“You’re insane if you don’t do it.”

“If I don’t talk to Her?”

“Yes! Don’t let her go! Are you crazy, Glasses?!”

“What am I supposed to say? I-I was such a cunt.”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, man—offer to lick hers. Bet she’ll forgive you right there on the spot. Damn. That’s how I’d do it.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Idiot.”

“Eh, whatever. You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Wonwoo exhaled a large, solacing breath, glancing toward the moonlight that beautifully shimmered down in its pearlescent webs, bathing the rooftop akin to the blue mirages at the nature museum.

Vernon was right.

He couldn’t let this be the end of your story.

—END OF PART FOUR.

[vilandel]

Silver Cats & Black Roses

Chapter 27 – Ball like a Volcano

A/N I love this title^^ Yes, the infamous ball is finally here and our main boys are so mesmerized by how beautiful their girlfriends are 💙💜 And there is also a cute bonding moment between Nozel and Noelle.

Ao3 link

♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣

It really felt like a volcano.

Everyone in this gigantic ballroom looked like they were having a great time, laughing and enjoying the beginning of the ball, but ignored the tension that was just everywhere in this room.

Between the golden pillars, covered with expensive imitations of royal ivy for the occasion.

In front of the high windows, through which still shined the last light of sunset.

Above the marble floors, rare black marble to accentuate the shades of white and gold in this ballroom.

Under the artistically painted ceiling, covered with clouds full of light, angels playing violins and harps, decorations of green and golden clovers for the frames of each painting, chandeliers made of crystal hanging down from it.

It was really like living just next to a volcano. Everyone was aware of the danger and tension, but ignored it in order for the silly happy life, even though the volcano might explode from any moment from now on.

This had been the feeling Nozel had since he entered the old ballroom of the three royal houses. Of course each royal house had their own ballroom, but for some reason he could never find the reason for, they also had a common for all three. As if Kiras, Vermillions and Silvas had ever been able to ever share something in past history.

But well, exceptions often confirms the rule, even for old and stupid rivalry between royal families.

Nozel had come with all of his siblings, even Noelle had decided to accompany them. Like almost every Magic Knight who came from a noble or a royal house, Finral and Noelle came with their respective family instead of with their squad.

Of course, Nozel had told Noelle that if she preferred to appear alongside the Black Bulls, he would never dare to hold her back. He knew how much she cared for them, just like Vanessa. But his baby sister insisted to come along with them, claiming that she was a Silva too and she cared for them as well. And since Nebra had been responsible for her dress, it would only be fair towards their sister.

Noelle also didn’t want to leave him alone in his whole situation with this ball and his love for Vanessa. Nozel had no words to tell his sister how much this meant to him, so he just hugged her, to her biggest delight.

He had also be put in charge by Nebra to watch that Noelle would get properly dressed. Apparently, Nebra had to spend the whole afternoon making sure that Solid would be properly dressed and asked at least five servants to get a hold of Solid.

Nozel decided that he should better never ask for details.

After all, it allowed him to spent lots of hours with Noelle, something he refused to miss.

Nozel looked at his youngest sister and he felt his heart filled with pride and affection. Nebra and Soie Velours did a marvellous job with Noelles dress.

He was told that the shape was called A-linen and he had no reason to doubt his sisters words. A tight bodice that accentuated Noelles fine waist while leaving her shoulder free and a skirt that flowed rather widely around her, but not too much. Almost like water…

The dress was water-themed, a shining blue looking like the ocean on a bright sunny day. At the bottom of the dress was a bright silver pattern, looking exactly like when waves were crashing. Nebra even managed to find Noelle in their family’s jewellery a suitable diadem, made of silvers and with aquamarines in the shapes of seashells. Nozel had put it himself on her head. According to aunt Océane, that diadem had belonged to their late aunt, Pluie Silva, who had been captain of the Silver Eagles and had died in a battle when Nozel still had been a baby. A true family heirloom.

Noelle had let her hair down, falling like a waterfall on her back and only hold by the seashell diadem. It really suited her. But she still insisted to wear the pink ribbons and so, she wore them on her wrists in sophisticated bows.

He and Noelle had been the first to be ready and had to wait for Nebra and Solid for quite a while. But both of them, especially Solid, had been perfectly dress when they finally came down, so he didn’t scold them this time for their usual lateness.

Nebra had managed to find a marine blue ornate waste for Solid, with embroideries of silver snakes and trousers in the same shade of blue. His brother had apparently refused to wear a jacket as well, but Nebra had put a white silk shirt with long puffy sleeves on him, which made the whole outfit rather elegant and simple.

Nebras dress though had rather surprise him. Instead of her usual choice of Silva colours or teal, her gown was black, with deep blue embroideries on her bodice and at the top of the skirt. For some reason, those patterns reminded a lot of the usual circles so common for trap spells and for some reason, there were also bugs here and there. Not spiders though, which was surprising, since spiders were Nebras favourite animals. He couldn’t recognize the bugs on this dress.

And the diadem she choose to wear was also a strange choice for Nebra. It was made of silver, of course. But the gems were rubies, not a gem that Silvas would use to wear. Nozel wondered if Nebra borrowed it from Océane or if she ordered it from a jewellery for the occasion.

Was Nebra going through some kind of rebellious phase? It was strange, especially since she was the Silva with most diplomatic skills and etiquette knowledge out of the four of them. But at the same time, her temper was fitting for a bit of rebellion.

And if it was against Lac Silva, Nozel would give Nebra all the blessing for it.

So many people were already here and the ball hasn’t even really started yet. But all three royal families were already present. The only royal not present was Damnatio Kira, but he was well-known to never enjoy such parties. He was certainly working on some parliament stuff.

With the presence of the Black Bulls and despite the fact that he declared Asta innocent right after Spade, it was probably better that Damnatio wasn’t present.

All the other Kiras, main members and those from secondary branches, were present. The king was in the gaudiest golden outfit, waiting for compliments, while Finral and Finesse had joined the Black Bulls at the buffet, because of Charmy. He didn’t know the other Kiras well and that was certainly for the best.

From the Vermillions, everyone was now present, even the ones he didn’t that much and even Mereoleona had dare to make an appearance. Nozel was surprised to see her, but he could imagine that Julius had asked to come here in case there’s a drama involving the nobles. He saw Leopold talking with Fragil Tormenta and his aunt laughing with Kirsch and Mimosa. Océane was wearing a gorgeous white dress with golden lilies, while Mimosa looked really good in emerald green and patterns of pale golden plants. As for Kirsch… well, his pale pink and golden ceremony suit was very sparkly. There was no other way to describe it.

His Vermillion relatives all looked very happy and Nozel was actually glad that his cousins didn’t lost their mother.

Fuegoleon was not too far away from them, standing with his own beloved, Lital Lys, wearing a dark red dress with patterns of golden and orange flames at the bottom. Nozel frowned as he saw the ceremonial suit his rival was wearing. A new one, but unusual colours for a Vermillion, especially a fire Vermillion. It was night blue, with some silver embroideries which looked like they represented stars.

Wasn’t it star magic Lital Lys had? And her dress represented flames, which was Fuegoleons magic affinity… Were they wearing each other’s colours in order to show that they belong together?

There would have been a time when Nozel would have find this kind of idea ridiculous. But today…

Nozel sighed while he looked discreetly around again. He saw so many faces, some he knew, some he didn’t know. Some he liked, some he could barely take the mere sight. Speaking of, he didn’t see Lac Silva yet, but this was a relief for now.

No, the only person Nozel wanted to see tonight wasn’t here yet. Vanessa hadn’t come with the Black Bulls, which had surprised him and honestly, he was rather worried. Was she fine? Did she felt ill and couldn’t come? Did Vanessa had problem with nobles or worse, had Lac Silva something to do with her absence?

Nozel felt like he was agonizing without Vanessa. Just a mere sight of her and he would be able to calm down. He hadn’t seen her since early this morning, it had been very difficult to let go of each other. He missed her so much, he wanted her here, with him.

He wanted to see her, to hold her, to dance with her. Not only tonight, but for the rest of his life. What would he do if he would lose Vanessa just like he lost his mother? What if… what if…

A hand was placed on his arm before he could definitely start to panic…

Noelle looked up to him, a reassuring smile on her lips.

“Don’t worry, Vanessa will come soon. Apparently, auntie Dea, uhm, I mean, lady Orchidea invited her to get ready for the ball, so she will appear with her, captain Charlotte and another Roselei I sadly forgot the name already.”

“It sounds like the introduction to a noble lady to society.”

“Yes, it does. I don’t why auntie Dea, argh, sorry, lady Orchidea invited Vanessa over, but we can trust her, so don’t worry, brother.“

“It’s just… I miss her,” Nozel admitted in a whisper. Thankfully, only Noelle heard him, Nebra was too focused to scold Solid about the inelegance of blowing his nose loudly in the middle of a ball.

“I understand, big brother. But I’m sure you won’t have to wait for too long. I haven’t seen her dress yet, but I’m sure she’s going to look amazing. And… you’re quite dashing as well, Nozel.”

Nozel looked down at his new ceremonial suit he had ordered just for the occasion. Made of burgundy satin with a few silver Silva emblems embroidered especially at the borders, it was rather simple. But it matched perfectly with the one shoulder cape Vanessa made months ago.

A few months already… It felt so far away, but Nozel knew that actually it hadn’t been too long ago. But it had been before Vanessa and himself got together.

It was also a very special day Nozel would never be able to forget. That day, he had realized that he was hopelessly in love with her.

And today, he finally got the occasion to wear that wonderful gift she made him. Nozel had specifically ordered that the embroideries of his new ceremony suit had to be few and as simple as possible. That way, Vanessas cape would be in a way standing out.

“Has Vanessa done this?” Noelle asked in a whisper while softly stroke his cape with respect.

“Yes, she did. That had been a while before we started to be a couple.”

“I can’t believe that the two of you have been spending time together even before becoming a couple and I haven’t realized one thing ever. How blind was I?”

“You’re not blind, Noelle. It’s just a surprising occurrence, it had been for Vanessa and me as well. Back then, she made this cape for me as token of gratitude for the sewing box I gifted her.”

“That was a really thoughtful gift. Speaking of… Nozel, have you been the mysterious person to give me presents all those years?”

Nozel felt himself flinch. It reminded him of those years of being a distant, cold older brother, of his mistakes with how to take care of Noelle. And still, it didn’t stop him to secretly send her gifts for each of her birthdays…

It had been of secret, because already back then he felt ashamed of himself and was convinced he didn’t deserve to make her happy with presents. How wrong he had been…

“Did… did you know?”

“No, I never knew. And the Black Bulls were always curious about who would give me those mystery gifts. I only started to have suspicions after I found out about you and Vanessa. That sewing box was a thoughtful gift and yours were very thoughtful as well. And… I’m glad that you always gave those to me. We both never had real birthdays after mother’s death, as far as I can remember.”

No, neither of them didn’t. The only time there had been some kind of party for Noelles birthday, nobles started immediately to talk about her reputation and Nozel was still so imprisoned in his cold soul that the only solution he saw to stop this was to never celebrate that birthday again. As for him, he was feeling so guilty after losing his mother that he started to believe he didn’t deserved to have his birthday celebrated and over the years, only a few people remembered. Like Noelle…

Wait a minute!

“Noelle, were you the one to anonymously putting birthday presents in my room all those years? Even after you joined the Black Bulls?”

“Yes, how did you find out?”

“It was just a guess…”

Noelle just looked at him with big, surprised eyes, before she gave him a soft smile. So, Nozel smiled back. This was actually something just between the two of them and it was actually a really nice feeling.

After a few moments, Noelle said again, “It’s a really great cape Vanessa made you. And it was bold of her to choose burgundy, but Vanessa was always rather bold. I actually find it quite romantic that you’re wearing her colour.”

Somehow, his sister looked sad saying those words, which made Nozel frown with concern. “Noelle, is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything is perfectly fine with me, don’t worry for me, big brother. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Noelle.”

“Ugh, okay. Honestly, I love this dress, it’s practically the first gift Nebra EVER gave me and it looks amazing, not to mention the seashell diadem from our late Silva aunt, it’s so fitting. And I’m happy I wear your ribbons in a different way, on my wrists. It’s just… I would have loved to wear at least one item that could remind of Asta. But at the same time, unlike you and Vanessa, we’re not together and Asta isn’t even aware that I’m head over heels for him, despite his ability to read Ki. So, maybe I shouldn’t wear something that reminds me of Asta, at least not yet… if he ever falls in love with me, since there’s also Mimosa and Rebecca.”

“Don’t say something like that,” Nozel replied softly, while looking over at Asta, who was somehow trying to get between Magna and Luck who apparently seemed to try to attack each other with golden spoons. At least, Luck was, Magna looked more like he was trying to defend himself.

He was glad that Noelle, while still being a bit jealous of Mimosa and whoever Rebecca was, loved Asta truly enough that she would be happy for him he would fall for someone else than her, even though it might break her heart.

But for his baby sister’s sake, Nozel hoped that one day Asta would fall for Noelle. It was a bit difficult for him to imagine that young peasant but promising knight as a potential future member of his family, but surprisingly, he wasn’t against it at all. Well, Noelles happiness was important to Nozel and thanks to Vanessa, he actually started to be more open.

“I think that if you want, you can still wear an item that reminds you of Asta,” he continued while taking a small black velvet piece out of his pocket and handling it to Noelle. Surprised, she opened it and gasped when she discovered what was inside.

It was a small necklace, with a little silver ribbon instead of a chain and with jade stone as a pedant, shaped into a star.

“It belonged to mother. I find it again when I went through the stuff I got from her after her death. I think you should have it. After all, you too shall have things that belonged to our mother. And Astas eyes have the same colour as jade.”

“Thank you so much, Nozel…”

Noelle had now teary eyes while she smiled at him as if he had given her the whole world. Nozel smiled back as he took the necklace himself to put it on her himself. It fitted perfectly around Noelles neckline.

Suddenly, Noelle looked back to the black marble stairs that led to the entrance of the ballroom. A big smile spread upon her lips. “Nozel, look. Vanessa is finally here.”

Of course, Nozel turned immediately towards the stairs, but he couldn’t immediately see his beloved at first. He saw one of Charlottes cousins, Josephine or Joselin, almost running down the stairs, wearing a dress in autumn shades. Then there was lady Orchidea with a wide gown that looked like storm clouds. Charlotte was right next to her mother in a spectacular black dress, which was already commented by Nebra and her fashion sense radar.

And then, right behind Charlotte, he finally saw her…

Vanessa was beyond beautiful in her bright purple dress, flowing gracefully around her perfect body. White and pale pink roses were scattered around her dress, as well as some embroidery of silver, looking exactly like vines covered in frost. In fact, the whole dress seemed like to have a very subtle silver shine, it accentuate Vanessas beauty and grace perfectly.

Her hair was falling freely on her back, it was only held back by a diadem. His mother’s water lily diadem, her favourite. Vanessa was wearing it!

And it looked so mesmerizing on her rosewood curls. Almost as if it was made for her especially. She certainly was very aware of the emotional symbolism of the diadem, as she caressed the gems respectfully for a second.

Vanessa looked over the ballroom, before her gaze met his. And she started to smile, the brightest smile he ever saw.

And in this moment, nothing else existed in the whole world.

Nothing else those rosewood curls falling like a waterfall on her porcelain shoulders, those eyes shining like amethysts, this gorgeous smile…

The most beautiful woman in the entire world, both outside and inside. The woman he felt hopelessly in love with, the best thing that ever happened in his entire life, especially after his mother died.

Nozel smiled back.

He felt like they could do this forever. Looking at each other with love, smiling as if only the other existed in the whole world. But it would be even better if he could hold her hand, hug her tightly in his arms, dance with her… Honestly, anything would be fine for him. As long as it was Vanessa he could do all of these things with.

As long as she would be the one he would spend the rest of his life with and no one else…

Nozel barely noticed how other guests arrived, how some ladies looked at him with some sickening superficial longing. Only Vanessa mattered for him right now, as she started to descend the stairs gracefully, as she always was.

Was it just him or did she walked very slowly for some reason? Why does everything and everyone felt so blurry except her? Did it matter? No… What mattered was Vanessas mere present and that his love for her got even deeper than it already was. Apparently, this was possible.

“You’re glancing at Vanessa as if she is a goddess of beauty and love or a queen from a fairy tale book that stepped out of the pages,” Noelle whispered, bringing him just barely back to reality.

“She is the queen of my heart,” Nozel whispered back, not caring at all how corny it sounded very corny and that it was his beloved baby sister who heard him talk like a lovesick poet. For a second, he was relieved that Noelle loved poetry just as much as him.

“What are you two whispering over here.”

Both flinched at Nebras voice and Nozel was so in pain to turn his eyes away from Vanessa to look at his other sister. He tried to stare at her as blankly as he could. But maybe his glare was too harsh, as he felt Noelle pull slightly at his sleeve and Nebra arching a brow at him, clearly surprised.

Thankfully, Noelle was able to diffuse the growing tension immediately.

“Vanessa finally came and we were just commenting about how good my squadmate looks in her dress from Soie Velours.”

Okay, Noelle sounded very, very nervous. But thankfully Nebra didn’t seemed to notice, turning towards Vanessa, who now stood at the bottom of the stairs. Nebra let out a whistle.

“Damn, she really looks good. I already knew that out of you Black Bulls, she is probably the one with the most decent taste for fashion. Honestly, this is such an excellent choice of fabric and colours and patterns… It really does suit her, especially how it flows around her.”

Solid turned towards the stairs as well with an uninterested glance. One second looking at how beautiful Vanessa was and he lost all interested already.

“Yeah, I guess she looks pretty good for a witch.”

“Solid.”

“What? What did I said wrong.”

Nozel, Noelle and Nebra just stared at him with the typical stern, cold Silva glare. Solid still looked confused, but thankfully was now quiet.

Sighing deeply, Nozel glanced back at Vanessa, locking his eyes with hers. He saw in those amethyst orbs the same longing he was currently feeling. They needed to be cautious. One wrong move and their mistake could be used against them, especially by Lac Silva.  Océane had warned, while also giving multiple little plans and strategies to follow tonight. Playing the game of nobility, but with their own rules.

But he wanted to hold her so much right now! To seek comfort, but more importantly, to reassure her. Vanessa was the newbie in this complicated dark golden world of nobility and royalty, not him. Of course, he was not good at playing this games of minds and traps and gossip, this was more the brand of his Vermillion aunt.

But if he wanted to fight against his father and more importantly, to fight to be with Vanessa, Nozel needed to know how this game was working. By knowing it, he could play with his own rules and if he did it right, he could win. No, he will win.

It really felt like being near a dormant volcano.

Vanessa gave him an encouraging smile, while not hiding her longing for him in her eyes. This alone made Nozel feel like he got wings. Majestic wings like an eagle, able to fly against the wind of expectations.

And now he was getting poetic again.

Noelle gave him a small squeeze with her hand. He responded to it. Nozel knew that he wasn’t the only who needed to be on guard during this ball full of traps.

Suddenly, a crystal clear sound was to hear, as if someone was poking a glass of champagne with a spoon.

Nozel turned around… And saw his father in the middle of the ballroom.

He wasn’t standing on a pedestal or a chair, he didn’t looked like it was his intention to have every person present in this ballroom focus on him. But Nozel knew better. Lacs nonchalance was one of his weapons, he built a lot of his immaculate reputation thanks to this.

Lac Silva had his white hair styled in a complicated hairdo, that might be become a new fashion for noble men within the next week. His moustache was perfectly oiled and curled, he was wearing a fine silvery white suit with a middle long black cape and golden buttons, he even put the elegance so far to wear gloves of finest silk and a monocle on his right eye.

His smile was so bright that only those who knew better would see that it wasn’t genuine.

“My dearest friends, despite not being worthy of having such an honour, our beloved king, Augustus Kira Clover the XIII gave me the joy of opening this ball. To celebrate the victory against the devils in Spade and in honour of our hard-working Magic Knights,” – there was an emphasis of hard-working, because Lac know how most nobles considered work – “this ball had been organized by nobility as token of our gratitude for the assurance of our future. I wish that everyone here tonight will find the perfect match to celebrate this victory and the future of our kingdom as it should be. I am eternally grateful to all of those present today who knows how to protect and to secure this precious gift. And hereby, I officially declare the beginning of the Three Leaves Glory ball !”

A wave of applause followed those subtle manipulating words, but neither Nozel nor his siblings gave in. There would be a cold day in hell before they would cheer for their father and one of his speeches.

Nozel could feel Lacs glare on him, but he didn’t give that man the honour of looking at him. Instead, he glanced again at Vanessa, who hasn’t stop to look at him with love and longing. But now, with the official start of the ball, there was also determination in her amethyst orbs and he felt exactly the same.

Their battle for the other and against the expectations of the status quo started now.

♣♣♣

Gosh, he hated to be in a suit. Okay, Blue Rose Mama had compromised of course and managed to find him an ensemble that wasn’t tight on the body and the skin, so that it was actually comfortable to wear, which also meant that he wouldn’t ruin it with his sweat, and which most importantly, it wouldn’t be a torture of acrobatic measures to put down his trousers in case he needed to take a dump.

Still, Yami absolutely hated to be in a suit.

Okay, he was elegant and the suit his future mother-in-law found him wasn’t ridiculous. It was of good taste, Yami had enough knowledge in arts and such to recognize that. He didn’t know if ceremony and fancy party clothes should be considered as art, though. But this was another debate.

Well, usually Yami hated to be in fancy clothes like that because it was always miracle if they were at best more or less kinda decently comfortable. This one was even more than decently comfortable. No, Yami still hated to be in a suit because he hated that he had to look fancy for those stupid nobles and their sticks in their asses. Honestly, he would have preferred to come in his daily clothes or his festival outfit from his home country. Those were comfy on many levels, his brats were used to see him that way and his captain colleagues wouldn’t have minded, even Nozel.

Gosh, their surprised faces when his brats and his fellow captains saw him in a suit, he might would never hear the end of it.

Even more so, his suit was blue. Blue! Not even his colour, one more reason to never hear the end of it. Yami could already hear Nacht and Zora mock him back at the Hideout for the next six months, as well as Jack and Dorothy, when she would be awake, tease him about it during captain meetings.

Okay, it was a very dark blue, which was fine, honestly. But it was still a reason to complain! At least, he would have complained if it weren’t for Blue Rose Mamas actually more than excellent argument.

You’re not doing it for the nobles, my dear future son-in-law. I’m sure that Charlotte would be happy if you’re elegant.

And that was the only reason why he accepted to wear an elegant suit for this stupid ball and probably also why Orchidea had choose the colour blue. Yami might thought that Prickly Queen knew him enough to not have been offended if he would have been wearing his usual clothes. But she certainly would appreciate the effort he took to be elegant for her. Okay, her mother helped him, but still.

It was worth the figurative pain to be in a suit and the weird glances his brats and his fellow captain colleagues would gave him on occasion.

Okay, Kaiser had been surprised as well, but he immediately gave him an encouraging glance. Yami had to give it to the Purple Moustache Grandpa, he was clearly one of the best nobles out there. And one of the most normal people amongst the Magic Knight Captains, honestly, which wasn’t such a bad thing, actually.

Kaiser was in the company of a slight chubby but kind looking woman, certainly his wife. Yami vaguely recognized her from the portrait that had was on Kaisers office desk. From that day he went to see his purple moustache colleague for some love advice concerning Charlotte. Advice that had been really helpful, he had to admit.

Damn, this was a while ago already… Yami sighed. It was also thanks to Kaiser he finally got the final grip on himself and actually started his relationship with Charlotte. In a way, he might owe something to his old Purple Moustache Colleague.

Kaiser had been so free to introduce him to his wife, lady Isabelle Granvorka. Who proved herself to belong to the rare kind nobles, just like her husband, Finesse or Blue Rose Mama. And Charlotte of course.

Isabelle Granvorka had a lot of positive things to say to him and at the end, she even invited him for dinner one day.

Just because apparently her husband had a lot of good things to say about him and that she already appreciated him.

Damn, why did he stumbled upon so many surprising kind nobles after Spade? In a way, it was certainly a good thing, but Yami still hoped that it wouldn’t bite him back in the ass one day.

Well, at least encountering the lady wife of Purple Moustache Grandpa had been a nice encounter, he couldn’t say that for the majority rest of the nobles though. Especially those who weren’t Magic Knights. He could perfectly feel some glares on him and his brats. Glares he was used to, of course. The Black Bulls were never those who cared about what others think of them, especially jerks.

But for some reason, this very night, those glares were actually putting him on edge and he didn’t like that feeling.

It didn’t help that Finral had decided on his own to go with his beloved wife and his brother to the ball, leaving the Black Bulls with no other option that to use their own brooms to go there and even on time, as they promised Blue Rose Mama. Well, except Noelle who went with her siblings and so spent the whole day with them. And Vanessa, who for some reason decided to accompany Orchidea, Prickly Queen and some random Roselei cousin girl to the ball.

Witches were really difficult to understand with their special view on logic, he saw that enough with Miss Sleepy Hat.

So yeah, he was already feeling on edge, it hadn’t been easy to gather his wild brats to make them ready for this fucking ball and ready to fly away. It only worked in the end because Nacht had… done something. Something Yami most certainly never wanted to know, given how his friend had mysteriously grinned.

And to crown this upsetting feeling, he even got a glance at Charlottes bitchy aunt Rosamund, wearing a poison green puffy dress with scarlet roses, who was talking with Reggie. That stupid suitor that thought making Prickly Queen his wife number six would be an excellent idea. He was wearing some purple suit with a lot of golden patterns. There was so much gold on the fabric that the original purple colour was kinda underwhelmed.

What were those two jerks talking about? Trapping Charlotte into engagement? Oh hell no, not on his watch!

If there was one person in the world allowed to woo his Prickly Queen, it would be him and no one else! Reggie and auntie Rosabitch are going to bite their tooth out on him! Of course, after Charlotte would beat them while Yami would probably enjoying the show with a good booze.

Now that sounded like plan. Even though Yami had no clear idea how this would look like, but well, that was future Yamis problem.

Actually, speaking of Prickly Queen, where was she? She was the only person he really, really, really wanted to see tonight and she was still not soothing his poor delicate eyes with her presence.

Damn, he really hoped that nothing went wrong with the preparations for the ball. If Charlotte won’t appear, he would have put on this stupid blue and comfy suit for nothing! And more importantly, what was he supposed to do when his Prickly Queen wasn’t here!

His brats must have felt how tense he was, because they were leaving him alone. Even Nacht who just… went somewhere, who knows the place. Yami had his eyes practically glued on the stairs that lead to the entrance of this stupid black and white and golden ballroom. The same entrance he would certainly use a second time pretty soon already if his Prickly Queen wouldn’t appear in the next five minutes.

Maybe ten minutes.

Make that fifteen.

Damn, what was taking them so long? Yami knew he should have never tried and come early or on time.

Finally, Blue Rose Mama appeared. Which was a good sign, his future mother-in-law would probably never come without her daughter nearby.

She was wearing some neat dress, from what he could tell. Two different shades of grey, one dark and one bright, almost looking like different storm clouds gluing together as one, with very light blue patterns that looked like lightning.

Yami couldn’t help but grin. It was very obvious who this dress was more or less honouring. Damn, Blue Rose Mama really fully embraced and adopted Luck as her son. No wonder it was so difficult to hate a noble like her.

There was some young brown teenager next to her, already running down the stairs in some gown with autumn colours. The random Roselei cousin, probably. Vanessa was just behind Blue Rose Mama, wearing some kinda nice dress, metallic purple with some flowers. Since when was she choosing a cold colour instead of a vibrant one, like a wine coloured dress?

And who cares about that anyways? Where was Prickly Queen?

Finally she appeared next to Vanessa. And Yami finally see the true queen of this ball. A queen always made her people wait for the best, he should have known that.

The dress Charlotte wear surprised him though. Yami had been so certain that she would wear some shade of blue or even multiple shades of blue, since it was her colour. Heck, why else would he have to wear a suit of the same fucking colour?

But Charlottes dress wasn’t blue. It was black, with golden patterns. And it was perfectly truly breath taking, accenting her fine waist perfectly while it made her look like a black rose, with golden dew.

Damn, did she choose those colours to honour him? Was this the real reason why Blue Rose Mama insisted that he should wear a blue suit?

Why hadn’t he thought about from the start?

Charlotte was now going down the stairs very slowly, at least for Yamis taste. He just couldn’t wait to be at her side. But at the same time, while she was going so slowly, he could admire her elegant walk, like the true queen she was.

He barely even noticed how a lot of men, including that Reggie jerk, also were mesmerized by Charlottes appearance. Why would he even waste his time on those losers while he could just glance and admire his Prickly Queen finally becoming the queen of thorns she always had been? She really needed to wear more dresses from time to time, it suited her so well.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

Yami jumped immediately, but relaxed as he saw that it was just Blue Rose Mama, grinning up at him.

“She choose those colours for you. But she still decided to keep the rose and thorns theme.”

“That sounds so much like her…” Yami mumbled while looking back at Charlotte, who was now finally down the stairs and looking around, certainly searching for him.

Orchidea sighed softly, before putting a hand on his forearm. “Good luck to the both of you. You’re going to need it this night.”

With those words, Blue Rose Mama turned around to greet Luck, who was for once not excited for a fight, but because of the dress his second mother was wearing.

Charlotte finally saw him, looking relieved. She started again to walk towards him, still too slowly for his taste.

But maybe it was just him being weird, because something was definitely wrong. Why does it seemed like the light was mostly shining on Prickly Queen and why did everyone looked so blurry except her? Also, why did it seem that the other ball guest were for some reason making a path for her towards him?

It must be something with his eyes. And it didn’t really stop when she was finally standing in front of him.

Charlotte had a small, naughty grin as she looked at him, amused. “I hope you’re not going to say that I will catch a cold with this dress, because that would also be insulting towards you, regarding the colours.”

Yami grinned. This was normal, definitely sounding like the Prickly Queen he knew and loved. She became rather bold, even teasing while being with him and honestly, he liked this a lot.

“I wouldn’t dare, your thorny Majesty. This is a very fitting gown for her rosy Highness and the colours are made for only a true queen. I had no idea that the Queen of Roses and Thorns herself would grace Clover nobility with her mere presence today.”

“A compliment from you? I guess miracles can still happen every day, in this case. Is there a possibility to see you alone, handsome stranger?”

Damn, Charlotte must have missed him quite a lot already if she was flirting like that with him. Not that Yami complained and to be fair, they haven’t seen each other since very early in the morning. Okay, it hadn’t been like a separation for thousand years, but still. It should be an official crime to separate him from his Prickly Queen!

No one was paying attention to them, as they all got focused on some white haired jerk who started a stupid speech. Great, this was the perfect occasion. Yami took Charlottes hand and lead her behind a pillar, where no one was and practically no one could see.

Charlotte didn’t even let him do the first move, as she cupped his face and literally crashed her lips on his. Yami put his arms around her waist to hold her closer and more firmly, while he still was cautious enough to not make her pretty diadem fall.

“Damn fuck, you really missed me.”

“Goodness, did you just kissed me with that mouth?”

Yami grinned wolfish before kissing her again, teasing her lips with his tongue. Well, if it was only up to him, they would have left this stupid stick-ass party and go at her place for a good old beddance, either naked or still wearing their ball clothes. That would have been a perfect plan for tonight, maybe even with some bedroom dinner afterwards, just the two of them. Yami promised to remember this for a later date.

They made out for a short moment, before some music from the orchestra was to be heard. Charlotte sighed as she break their kiss.

“The dances are about to start.”

“Do we have still some time before the betrothal trap waltz?”

“Probably, as it would be neither at the start nor at the end.”

“Good to know. By the way, your bitch aunt Rosamund and that five-wives-suitor jerk Reggie are nearby, certainly searching for you. Rosabitch might wanna try to reserve all the dances with you to that stick-ass wife hunter.”

“Rosab… Um, aunt Rosamund already tried this when I was still at home to prepare, but thankfully mother and my cousin Josephine had the grip on me and then Vanessa came, so everything went fine for now.”

“Why was Vanessa with you in the first place?”

“You might find out later today… In the meantime, even though I refuse to dance with Reginald Évantail, I certainly intend to dance in general. Shall I wait until you invite me or…”

“May I have this dance? This is how nobles use to ask or shall I be a bit more ridiculous?”

Charlotte just giggled before she took his hand and both appeared from behind the pillar to join the dancefloor. Well, it was the first time Yami would fight a battle while dancing. But it was definitely worth it. For Charlotte, he would even surpass the limits of his pride.

[carionto]

THUD, thud, thud

related story

The Earth is being held together by duct tape and sheer force of will, in some locations quite literally. Countries-wide rubberized titanium-alloy netting reduces the rate of continental collapse, globe-encompassing pipelines send expelled magma flows from the ever growing number of active volcanoes towards the Pacific Abyss to somewhat reduce the size of the hole and delay the inevitable calamity, and countless local efforts everywhere try and keep the rock beneath our feet from splitting further.

Despite this, Humanity keeps on keeping on with all other matters that have concerned us from the beginning and will continue forever onwards. Games, culture, love, innovation, squabbles, politics, war, and repeating ourselves.

After our ascension into the stars and amongst civilizations much older, some from before our pre-history even began, many were hopeful they would have a solution that could save Earth.

They didn't.

Most sapient races emerged from planets far more stable and comfortable than Earth was before we blew a 200km hole in it, cue all the consequences, so their standards for what a planet worth terraforming in the first place are much more narrow than our own. When we described and showed the current conditions of our homeworld, they were aghast at the fact anything was alive down here, let alone thriving.

To be fair, we were in the middle of a mass extinction event, then things got explodey, which caused another, far faster mass extinction event. Currently there are more archived species in deep cryo storage out in space, about 2.4 million in fact (mainly bugs and flowers), than living on the surface.

Still, there's no place like home, and no doubt there will be millions of people who choose to go down with it rather than leave Earth behind and witness its demise. Still millions more are trying every creative approach to fix things.

Since we're dealing with matters of the tectonic plates and the mantle layer, most serious efforts involve a lot of deep sea endeavors and expeditions into the dozens of literal cracks in the Earth that did not form into volcanoes simply due to the fact they're between several earlier formed ones, so there's just not enough magma flow left over between.

Thus were born the deepest and most insanely dangerous spelunking expeditions - and it's quite safe to say this - in the entire Galaxy. We're probably the only ones stupid enough to go down holes, some of which are well over a hundred kilometers deep, with the intent of closing the hole, or pushing the walls further to close a different, even bigger hole. Some are being filled in, and such efforts would succeed if the Earth weren't missing several quadrillion tons of matter and we had a few thousand years to do it.

The seismic activity of Earth more closely resembles that of a planet only a few hundred million years old. A thousand years ago we dismissed the term "Deathworld". Seven hundred years ago we redefined it. At present, many of us are try to deny it. In less than a century, Earth will fully live up to the term.

---beneath the deepest below---

(some context: 1 2)

The soothing pressure is weakening. The being at the center of anything it chooses, lays dormant still. Its focus, what little it has decided to maintain in its slumber, is on a distant something that should not be beginning to end yet.

Some being is acting out of turn, breaking how things are - for a fraction of a moment, before the Order of Things reasserts itself. Why must there always be a renegade...

Where it slumbers is exerting the faintest of feeling upon it. Another something that should not be. Yet all around there are nothings. Too many nothings. Some precede a further venting of the comforting pressure.

Nothings are still nothings. A something demands the only attention it maintains. Most eyes fully shut, another slightly shut. Should a matter be discovered to be worth awakening for, only then will all the nothings and almost somethings be done away with.

Nothings are a distraction when dealing with somethings in the waking state.

[justanotherbirdbrain-blog]

may i receive your rant on why every videogame ever chooses to have columnar basalt in places basalt should not be, like in unsuspecting caves or just dotting beaches with no volcano in sight... because god, that gets me going.

Let me preface this rant by saying, I love when videogames at least try, like I can look at a rock and actually say, "hey that's columnar basalt and not *generic rock texture*" (Pokemon Scarlet and Violet's texture shortened my lifespan). So generally speaking, if I can tell at least vaguely that someone googled photos of rocks when creating a game I am more happy than not, but!

My GOODNESS! I think I could extend this rant to just videogame cave systems in general! Like, caves are only formed in limestones and marbles (And some limey sandstones and salt deposits), BUT for some reason we are mining and finding Rubies? Emeralds? Metals? These caves they are depicting are clearly just supposed to be these natural caves and not abandoned mines, which would give them some leeway to put whatever desirable gemstone or ore they wanted in the game, but they don't choose that for some reason, and it is beyond me why!

And can we talk about how all of these caves got there in the first place? Like limestone only forms in marine environments! Are you telling me that the entire continent you designed was underwater to the extent to have a spiraling cave system forming at least every ten miles of trail explored (Skyrim I am looking at you)? And how acidic is your rain? Are we experiencing an industrial evolution? I CANNOT, also in what situation are these random massive quartz crystals in otherwise fine-grained material forming? Like one, Who would actually leave that laying there? No one. And two, how is this forming? Like are you trying to say this formed after the cave was created or what? If that's the case the more likely mineral would be calcite or gypsum.

My little bird brain can't wrap my head around what they are trying to do here! (The second image is from ESO and I give it a lot of lenience and to be fair they are trying to depict these are geodes that are surrounded by a massive basalt but they are also showing stalactites and stalagmites which aren't in basalts so it still gets points docked).

But yes! Seeing inaccurate geology, columnar basalts included can take you out of a game so fast, same with the imaginary ores that are kind of based off real metals. I think I would be more ok with completely fake names, because then at least I wouldn't have anything to associate it with.

That being said! I will end this rant by pointing out videogames that when either I was playing or my fiancé was playing I was pleasantly surprised by the geology/accurate textures.

ESO- elder scrolls online, I know I just docked it points above, but genuinely they do an amazing job depicting different rock types to the point that on their islands they have limestones. with. fossils. I nearly cried. Of course they still have random metal seems everywhere but it is an MMO and resources are necessary so I can ignore that as long as they keep making accurate landscapes.

Titanfall- I will just add an image because it will speak volumes

like does that shale/siltstone have ripple marks in the middle right hand side? beautiful. amazing. perfect. chief's kiss. (Apex also does a decent job which is a battle royale game that takes place after the Titanfall games, the textures aren't as good obviously but you can definitely tell what kind of rocks are at each map)

3. Horizon Zero Dawn- the graphics in this game are just genuinely impeccable and it takes place in the US but after the collapse of civilization. In a lot of ways, I think it made it a bit easier for the designers, but they still did an amazing job depicting the rocks accurately! I believe there is a Youtube video which compares the actual locations to the videogame locations.

some obviously tilted sedimentary rocks

sandstone arches

@cosmic-tuna please add more games if you know any!

[hvcmixtape]

love's all fair when you're checking the decisions between you and seungkwan on the basketball court on the island of jeju

pairing: seungkwan x reader themes: vacation!(Y/N), resort worker!seungkwan, jeju!seungkwan, there's no mention of caffeine but assume seungkwan still has his caffeine addiction 🤣 wc: ~2600 genre: fluff note: first fic released in a long while! hope you enjoy this AU :>

“I know you say you’re trying, but are you really?” Seungkwan teases you with a fiery tongue. He looks down at you as if the whole world is in his hand, the corner of his lips digging deep into his smirk. With the basketball cradled in his palm, you shoot daggers into his eyes. Who does he think he is, Troy Bolton?

You're the only two on the court at this late hour, but it's only because of the consequences of your own actions, all of which started just earlier that day.

It's your yearly vacation with your family and they decided, why not go to a resort where the destination is the journey itself?

As soon as you heard that come from your mom's mouth, you weren't sure what to make of the next week you'd be spending in Jeju, a place you'd been to a few times before. You've already visited the major attractions on the island, like hiking the Hallasan volcano, so what are a few more hikes? But realistically, who are you to deny your parents, the ones paying for the vacation in the first place?

Packing was difficult as you've thrown random clothing that you'll hope will make cute outfits when you're on the beachy island, and as soon as you know it, you're on the flight to Jeju, then in the shuttle to the resort, and then your ass is kissing the seat to a poolside view.

September is one of the best times to visit Jeju—the rainy season is starting to die down, but it's still bright and warm outside when there aren't any clouds. There aren't as many tourists at this time, but you've soon figured out that this is the time for locals to make the trip to Jeju so it's almost as crowded as you figured it would be. You suppose it's just another testament to how amazing Korea's geography can be.

As you sip on your drink, your mom beside you flips through one of the many brochures they handed her at check-in.

"Me and dad want to do a cooking class," she says after reading the description. "They'll teach us how to make paella; it's a Spanish rice dish."

"That sounds really yummy," you mindlessly reply, but as soon as you say that, she places one on your torso. "You want me to find things to do too?"

"Why not? Weren't you complaining and asking why we were coming back to Jeju? That's why I chose this place," your mom roughly says. "You don't have to do everything, but at least do something other than staying by the pool all day."

"I guess," you grumble, finally opening the pamphlet. There are a lot of things to try out: surfing and scuba diving caught your eye, but you weren't sure how you'd fare with those very physical activities. When you flip to the other side of the paper, your eyes are drawn to the left side. "Mom, they have an activity center for people my age—"

"Try it out! It'll be fun. Maybe you can go there after lunch and see what things they have planned for the day."

Lunch comes and goes and you have no choice but to venture off on your own, as your parents decided they want to do a wine tasting in the downtown area, taking the rental car with them.

Your first step is to approach the reception area, where you find a young man, probably around your age, manning the desk.

"Hi, good afternoon, how can I help you?" His full cheeks give him a boyish look, and his messy hair just adds to his appearance. He's wearing the same linen shirt the other staff you've seen wear, but on him, it looks just a little bit better.

"I was wondering if you have any information on the young adult activity center here. I saw it in one of the brochures."

A smile beams on his face. "You've come to the right place. I'm the worker in charge of the young adult activity center. I'm Seungkwan."

He puts out a hand for you to shake, and you accept it right away. "My name is (Y/N), it's nice to meet you," you reply back. "When are there usually activities during the day? I'm staying at the resort until the end of the week."

"Usually every few hours is a light activity and sometimes, we do excursions. Let me check to see what we have for today."

As Seungkwan pulls up the schedule on his computer, you say, "You seem a little young to be working at a resort full-time?"

He chuckles, pulling his focus toward you. "This is actually my aunt's resort. I'm working with her until I manage to figure out what I want to do. But I am 21, so I'm not totally young."

"Oh, I'm only a little bit older than you. I'm just turned 22," you reply. "But this seems like a fun job."

"Yeah, I like it most of the time. I'm sort of thinking of going into the entertainment industry, so I'd say this is good practice." Seungkwan shrugs. "So, for today's schedule, we're planning on hiking around the Cheonjeyeon waterfalls. We'll meet at 3:30 so we can make it for the sunset and head back right after that."

"Sounds good. Where's the meeting spot?"

"It'll be right here at the reception desk. We usually have 5 to 10 people come around, especially for the hikes. And since we're at the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, not as many young adults are here." There's something in that sentence that makes you raise an eyebrow but you don't think further of it.

"I'll see you at 3:30 then," you smile. "See you later, Seungkwan."

You find him later on with a pair of sunglasses perched at the top of his head, waving around a tiny green flag. You can't help but laugh at how cutely he spins the flag in circles as he raises his hand high above his head.

"Hi Seungkwan," you say as you approach the group of 7 people so far. Most seem around your age but some have younger faces.

"Hi, (Y/N). You look ready to hike," he smiles and leans in toward your ear, making you feel some type of way when his breath tickles your ear when he speaks. "Some people seem like they've been forced to come by their parents."

You chuckle at his hushed tone and take a good look around you, where everyone is wearing completely different styles that might not be the best for hiking to a waterfall. One guy is wearing an all-white outfit, and you know that can't be good news for a hike.

"I suppose you get this often then?" You ask, as you turn away from him and you rummage through your backpack to find the sunscreen that you'll definitely need with the sun's rays still beating down at this time.

Seungkwan's eyes are stuck on your hands as they glide the sunscreen along your arms and shoulders, not even able to answer your question. He bites his lip as he can see you try to reach the exposed parts of your back with your fingers that just can't find a way there, but he keeps his mouth shut.

"Can," you look back at him with a pleading smile. "Can you put sunscreen on the parts I can't get?"

He doesn't have much of a choice and he accepts the bottle with a flushed face. "Sure," he says, squeezing the product onto his hand and watching the cream soak into your skin. He's embarrassed to admit that he knows the spots on your back that didn't get covered.

"Thanks!" You beam with a bright smile as you turn toward him, not knowing that he'll be thinking about that moment for a long while.

"Bye, Seoyeong, it was nice meeting you!" You wave to a girl who leaves almost as soon as the group returns to the lobby. She doesn't say much back, but you hope you'll get to see her again in the next few days that you're still here.

As people start to break ways, you're reluctant to leave. "Do people usually leave right away, or do they hang around?" You ask Seungkwan. He says he's still on the clock, whether he's with the young adults' group or he returns to manning the front desk, so it doesn't matter much to him how he spends the last part of his day.

"Most leave right away, but you're more than welcome to hang around if you want." Seungkwan smiles and it's the first time you've felt like you want to absolutely squish his cheeks.

You fold your fingers tight, not letting them leave your side. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not. We can get to know each other better, and," he glances down at his watch. "I get off of work in 45 minutes and that was a pretty hefty hike, so we can grab food if you want? I can take you somewhere outside of the resort."

...Is this a date?

After letting your mother know that you're off to eat dinner with one of the people you've met at the hike, you click your seatbelt buckle and are ready to go wherever he leads you. Never mind the fact that you've known him for half the day—you are usually more aware than this—but you just feel good about Seungkwan. Something feels right about him.

"Do you like hamburgers?" Seungkwan asks as he adjusts the mirrors of his car. You can feel your heart pattering against your chest from such a domestic action.

"Yeah. I get them often with my friends after classes." You go deeper into conversation about your academic aspirations when he wonders what courses you're taking, and it's nice, to say the least. You enjoy getting to know someone better and it definitely doesn't hurt that you find him attractive. Maybe he's just being nice and maybe he's done this with other people who have been to the resort and met up with him, but you're only here for a few days anyway. If things don't work out, it's fine.

Seungkwan's a smooth driver as you glaze over his appearance: his brown hair floating up and down when the wind blows through it, the wire glasses that perch on his nose, and a smile that comes about often when he's speaking. He doesn't let the conversation drop, making sure he's nodding his head in acknowledgment while also keeping his eyes on the road.

As he approaches the parking lot of the restaurant, you mention that parking is so difficult.

"No, it's pretty easy," Seungkwan shakes his head. He removes his hand from the wheel and places it on the back of your seat as he reverses the car into the space.

"Easy for you to say," you mutter, trying to look in the side mirror if your face can get any redder.

After you head into the restaurant and order your food, you look out the window and even a simple hamburger place has the best views. "I wouldn't see the ocean while eating a burger like this in Seoul."

"Just another great thing about Jeju," Seungkwan says as he digs into his burger. "This is my favorite burger place, I go here pretty often whenever I finish a shift."

"I like your shirt, by the way. It looks good on you," you blurt out and you can't help but take a huge bite of your burger so you can shut up.

Seungkwan sets down his burger and covers his laugh with a napkin. "Thanks," he replies after he settles down. It's a simple outfit—just a blue button-up with a white inner shirt, but it's the rolled-up sleeves that do it for you.

You move on from that topic as soon as you can.

"Thanks for taking me there, Seungkwan," You grin as you walk out potbellied after the meal. "And thank you for paying for me too, you didn't have to."

"Just wanted to show you around is all, so it's my pleasure."

You're not quite sure what he means of it, but he brings you to a walkway that leads down to the coast. "This is a nice place to walk along," you say as your shoes crush the sand below you.

"Yeah, I usually like to exercise after my meals, especially with burgers," he laughs at himself.

The two of you walk in silence for a little bit, taking in the sights and sounds of Jeju, a place Seungkwan has known forever and a place you're just here to touch on for a few days.

"Hey," Seungkwan pipes up. "Do you like basketball?"

“You suck, Kwan,” you say, as you jump, jump, jump. Your arm stretches out as far as you can, fingertips grazing his forearm each time your feet leave the ground. “What happened to playing a fair game?”

You're surprised that you get the court all to yourselves. Seungkwan said that the courts close for guests around 9 at night, but since it's his aunt's resort, a key can solve all of his problems. The floodlights are still on, illuminating the green and white basketball court you stand on.

“This is fair!” He can’t help but to laugh. “You just can’t reach me because you’re short.” His eyes crinkle at the outer points, still keeping enough focus to maintain the ball in his possession. Damn you, Seungkwan.

Maybe it’s the heat, or maybe it’s all of the mixed signals he’s been giving you but ah, to hell with it. It’s time for you to get on the offense and make a move.

With a deep breath in and out, you wrap your arms around his waist, looking up at him with the softest eyes you could muster.

As soon as he feels contact on his body, only a layer of clothing between your fingers and his midriff, his face burns. And you have never seen Seungkwan flustered to a point that the ball falls from his hand immediately and bounces multiple times on the court.

His feet are frozen and his eyes land on you, even as you run after the ball and sink a shot that’s not the cleanest, but still swishes through the net. 

Grabbing the ball, you saunter up as cool as you can, and hold the ball on your hip as you stand face-to-face. “Maybe that wasn’t fair, but I was trying at least.”

Your smart comment goes right over his head, as he’s still trying to process what the hell just happened.

"(Y/N)," he can only manage to utter, looking around to see if anyone saw what he just experienced. His eyes are wider than the full moon in the sky and he blinks a few times to shake off his surprise. "Yeah, I guess that would be trying." He puffs his cheeks and purses his lips, not knowing what else to say.

"I think you're cool Seungkwan."

"You do?"

"But I mean, do you do this with all the girls you meet when they come here for vacation?"

You have time to run away if need be, but you find yourself taking one, two, three steps closer to him.

"No," he replies, his voice softer than ever before. "Only you."

[ultraericthered]

The term "Mid", short for "middling", has been thrown around a lot in critical discussion around things like movies released this year: The Super Mario Bros. Movie, Pixar's Elemental, Five Nights At Freddy's, and Disney's Wish being prime targets. And what bothers me is when this term is used as a slam, as a way to dunk on the work being criticized and describe some black mark against its quality and value. To me, that is applying "Mid" incorrectly. When used like that, what's actually being described is mediocrity. The term "medicore" is defined as "mundane and of only moderate quality; not very good." To be mediocre has negative connotations, as it means something or someone falls below the bar standard of quality in a way that even if not straight up bad, is not very good either. The antithetical term to this would be "above average", which suggests that something or someone actually put in a little unexpected extra effort to go above the bar standard of quality that they were expected to meet. And then we have "average", and "middling", both definied as being the usual expected or ordinary standard, having qualities that are seen as typical of a particular person or thing, and being fair, moderate and average in size, amount, rank, or quality. This, folks, is what "Mid" is.

Here's an accompanying visual for understanding "Mid":

On one side of the road is a geyser bursting with pure water that's now flooding across, on the other side is a volcano that's erupted and is sending fire and lava down upon the land. Take the left turn and you get the water (good quality), but take the right and you get the fire (bad quality.) However, you could also stay put right there in the very middle of the road, in which case you get some of the water washing up from its side and some of the lava coming in from the other (a little bit of good quality and a little bit of bad quality both!)

Ideally, a work of art and piece of fiction should aspire to take a left turn and bathe in that water, or if they're going to get the fire, at least have the decency to do so in the most wholeheartedly enthused and fun way possible. But sometimes, they stay put right there in the middle of the road, to mixed results. It's not an inherently bad thing.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 37- Part 11

Oh, right, the Gym battle, that was my second guess. Not sure how I feel about this righteous old guy watching the battle, but sure, fine.

Alright, that was…a thing. Now that we've properly met the Voclains (and El, I guess), it's time to talk to Ame and get some more information about Serra's battle.

Ma’am have you watched the news recently?? Do you know what happened at the volcano??

Aaah, there's the mirror association, just like the statue alluded to.

Ooough, I'm not liking the sound of any of this…this Mirror Arena sounds a wee bit spooky…

Beam and light attacks…fair enough, but can I get anything more specific, maybe?

Ah…well, that was a tad bit of information overload. I get some of it, a lot about mirrors and stuff, but I really need to find the Read-Out for this Mirror Arena thing. It's gotta be around here somewhere…maybe in this very mansion! Time to look around and see!

Oooh, lots of doors…I'm guessing the one in the middle leads to the balcony?

Yeah, that's what I thought. Alright, upper doors first!

Not bad, but not quite what I'm looking for.

Also not bad, but still not quite what I'm looking for.

Ah, I think we've found Bennett’s room.

Previous

Next

[bisexualwannabewriter]

“The Great War” - Part Eight, Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary : Before Aemond Targaryen was the man he is today, he used to be a young boy, innocent and hopeful enough to fall in love… But the years would not be kind. Not to him, his family, or the one and only love of his life.

In the previous chapter, Corlys Velaryon returned from the Stepstones, severely injured and on the brink of death. As the years have shaped the Lady y/n into someone different from the little girl who once had to leave the Red Keep in a hurry with her Lord father... it is time for her to return there, to fight for Lucerys’ right to inherit High Tide.

You can find the previous chapters and all the chapters to come here.

Chapter Summary : Lady y/n is well aware that returning to King’s Landing means she’ll likely run into her first love again, Aemond Targaryen. But as of now, she has a mission : she needs to find out as much as possible on the current political climate at court. After all, Daemon did warn her : she was on their side now, and there is no room for nostalgia...

Everything was so different.

The Lady y/n could barely find her way around the imposing castle of her youth. The Red Keep had indeed changed quite a lot : symbols of faith were found everywhere now, and made it hard to recognize anything. Lady y/n was certain the Queen Alicent was to thank for this. But if this felt odd for her, she wondered just how strange it would feel to the Princess Rhaenyra and her family.

King Viserys barely had the strength to climb the steps to the Iron Throne now : more often than not, it was his Hand, Ser Otto Hightower one could find sitting there. It was hard to believe this same man had once managed to ride Balerion, the largest of all Targaryen dragons since Aegon's conquest. The King actually ruled the Seven Kingdoms in his bedchambers now, surrounded by maesters and septons. Although 'ruled' was perhaps too generous of a word, as he left most of the important decisions in the care of his small council and his Queen.

Y/n found herself in the courtyard, drawn to the rumor of a fight. She was dressed in plain clothes, not to draw too much unnecessary attention to herself. She could've been anyone, and in many ways she was now. Just... anyone. Not a Princess' childhood companion. Not an important Lord's daughter. Not a Prince's lover. She only appeared to be some pretty maiden in dull colors, fading into the background of a courtyard, watching some knight.. (Wasn't it Ser Criston Cole ?) train with... No. It could not be.

Facing Princess Rhaenyra's former protector, was a tall, slender man, with long hair so fair, they were silver. The man moved so quickly and gracefuly, it was almost hard to follow his movements, which was even more impressive given his eyepatch. Everything around the enchanting creature y/n was observing seemed to disappear, until there was nothing left but him. There was no sound, no smell, no sense of reality in that moment. A volcano could very well have erupted and wiped everything out : she would still be standing there, watching him. King's Landing could've suffered the same fate as the old Valyria, and the Lady wouldn't have noticed anything but Aemond.

She couldn't help it, even after all those years, even after everything. She hadn't realised she had in fact stopped breathing altogether, like she couldn't properly function in his presence now.

The Lady closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Time had passed, and things had changed. Yes, coming back here was a shock, but she had to regain some form of control over herself. She was better than this now. Her past was locked away, in the deepest pits of her soul, and it had no power over her anymore; it couldn't hurt her. It wasn't love, not anymore : only its persisting ghost. When she opened her eyes again, she quickly walked inside of the Red Keep.

As she entered the castle, she could've sworn Aemond's remaining eye was on her.

(...)

It didn't take long for y/n to understand the odds weren't in their favor. Vaemond had already presented his case to the Queen and the Hand. Otto Hightower had always claimed to put the good of the realm above all things, but what he deemed 'good', didn't necessarily align with the interests of others. "The threat of war" was an argument the Hand apparently enjoyed using, but where did the real threat come from ? King Viserys had named Rhaenyra his heir, and had approved of Lucerys as Corlys Velaryon's heir. The whole realm witnessed it. So who was threatening anything ? More importantly, who was really threatened? The greatest fleet in all Westeros would belong to Lucerys, making him - and by extension his mother - more powerful than ever. It was understandable for Vaemond to seek that power for himself, but not only. Should he become the next Lord of the Tides, the Greens would have the advantage.

Ultimately, it was more than likely Ser Otto would lead the debate around the matter. He had to pretend it was his great hope Lord Corlys would survive his wounds, but the Lady y/n saw the ugly truth.

So far, she had also learned a bit more about Rhaenyra's siblings, and who they had grown up to be. Aegon was actually worst than what she had anticipated. He was a lazy and sulky young man, known to fondle any serving girl who had the mischance to find herself too close to him, and to drown himself in ale and strongwine whenever he had the chance. Rumors had it he had actually sired a couple of bastards already. Helaena had given him twins named Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, but the children were tiny and slow to grow. As for the Princess Helaena herself, her peculiar charms hadn't changed much. She was known for speaking in cryptic language at times, but she was much beloved by the people of King's Landing nonetheless.

As for Aemond... he was known for being a dangerous and proficient swordsman, under the guidance of Ser Criston Cole. And by the looks of it, he had even surpassed his tutor. He was known for his hot temper, and his unforgiving nature. Neither him nor Aegon were very popular at court... unlike their youngest brother Daeron, who had been send very early on to Oldtown to squire for ser Otto's older brother. Y/n had never seen much of him.

The Lady quickly found her way back to the Rogue Prince and the future Queen when they arrived a bit later, and dutifully told them everything she had learned, under their approbative gaze, like she had passed a particularly tricky test they weren't sure she'd pass...

Chapter Nine in the making...

[turtlemagnum]

beat all the kanto gyms. progression was a tad obtuse at times but to be fair that's how shit went in early gen pokemon (and also a lot of games of the prehistoric period of the 20th century), and we have the internet these days so it's fine. surprised at how good of a challenge blue was, really; though it makes sense given how he's the final gym in the damn game. all that's left is mt silver... and Him... i think i'm gonna grind the elite 4 for a bit to get my guys all ripe and leveled up, i think i've settled on my final team. if you wanna hear me rant about my team, click the read more because i'm probably gonna go on for a while about each one and they all deserve it.

well, there's my starter, JAINA! the feraligatr. she's always been there, and honestly i was pleasantly surprised when i got a girl since those are always rare with the starters. i will say that my favorite gen 2 starter is the chikorita line, but every time i play a pokemon game i try not to overuse my favorites and go for a different experience every time and i already used chikorita during my HGSS playthrough (which, i'm actually pretty sure i haven't completed, but eh). i will say that out of all of my pokemon playthroughs, JAINA! has easily been my least reliable starter, and not to sound cold but i only love her a normal amount rather than the "i love her dearly" i've had for all my other starters. she's still really good though, and i do still love her

then there's kurohime!, my jynx. for a while, i've been of the opinion that ice types Suck and frankly? she turned me around on that. probably helps that she's also psychic, but she's consistently been one of my rocks ever since i got her (which, to be fair, was just before the eighth gym in johto). she's just like, really good, and i love her dearly. also, if you're wondering, her name is just the japanese word for "black" (kuro) and the japanese word for "princess" (hime) mashed up together, and i actually have a marginally convoluted train of thought for that. so, jynx is very obviously inspired by gyaru, right? and, well, as far as i'm aware male gyaru are called "gyaru-oh", with the "oh" meaning "king". and one of the most notable varieties of gyaru are called "kuro gyaru", so i just sorta like, reversed the gender there but since i didn't know the japanese word for queen i just went for princess instead. got the point across, anyways.

there's Ashe., my skarmory. i caught her either just before or just after the eighth johto gym, i forget which. she's also an extremely reliable pick just in general, often living through shit that's even super effective or crits. not even mentioning how good she is at "defusing" all the shithead self destruct users, given her steel type. she's also my flyer, so that naturally makes her innately useful. i had a pidgeotto named yuki!!! as my flyer before, but skarmory is just Better. my reasoning for naming her Ashe. is long forgotten, forever ago when i got my first skarmory in pokemon emerald she was also a girl and i decided "yeah, ashe is a good name for a skarmory" for whatever reason. maybe it's that the route you can catch skarmory on in emerald is the ashy volcano area with the banger soundtrack, i dunno.

now that i'm thinking about it, here's an honorable mention to my graveler KNICK (pronounced with or without the k depending on whichever's funniest at the time, so usually with the k). he was solid but by the time i got to the end of the johto gym challenge he had outgrown his usefulness, especially given how since i'm not playing on original hardware and i have no friends i can't really trade him, y'know. he was also really good at dealing with exploders, for what it's worth.

for a good while there, i had a gligar named GILLY!, i think he actually was there for the first time i took the elite 4. gligar learns Fuck & Shit for moves, at least in gen 2, so i cheated a bit to give him some relatively basic things like earthquake and rock throw and such. sue me, i cheated in literally no other regard. also, i named him after a line from a david bowie song, i believe ziggy stardust specifically. for some reason i just had that specific line of "jammin' good with weird and gilly!" in my brain at the moment so i was just like "sure, he seems like a gilly.

we have ivy!!!, my bellossom. i honestly expected him to end up a lot weaker than he did, but pretty much as soon as he evolved into a bellossom he became solid as they come. goddamn tanky, that's the best word for him, a motherfucking tank. dude could take super effective moves from guys well within his level range and take like a 10th of his health bar in damage. i feel like i could try to set him on fire with a lighter in his sleep and he wouldn't even wake up, and i'm not exaggerating. all while being a goddamn adorable little hula dancer fellow. fucking legend, i love him with my life. was a pain in the ass to get his evolution stone, fucking bugcatcher contests are bullshit.

there's my newest member, the guy who replaced GILLY!, his name? Ken. with the period. all of these are with the punctuation marks i wrote them with, because i think it's funny. i got him as a little baby tyrogue and trained him up real good until he evolved into a hitmonchan. it also took him until being a hitmonchan to learn some fucking moves other than tackle, though to be fair his Three Elemental Fist Techniques all came to him at the same time, with his first fighting type move coming fairly quickly after the fact. it's a weird euphoria leveling up once when all you've been training with is fucking tackle and immediately getting three pretty decent moves. instantly gave me solid coverage, even if his special attack stat is weak as hell we can always overcome that with training. and we currently are! after he got fire, ice, and thunder punch, he started growing damn quickly and caught up with the rest of my guy's levels almost immediately, it was damn impressive. went from like, level 10 or so to level 40 over the course of a single day, and i'm really proud of him. he's kinda got brittle bone disease due to how common birds are in general but that's nothing that obscene amounts of training can't fix! i kinda wanna get all my guys to level 100, or at least well into the 80s. Ken. is definitely a glass cannon, completely unlike his namesake but to be fair kenshiro from fist of the north star is stupid OP. he's my special little boy. but not my special-est little boy, that honor belongs to....

mint!!!!!! is my umbreon, my umbreon who evolved from an eevee at damn near level 50 and has easily been my highest level guy for as long as i've been training him to evolve. at first i was undecided if i wanted an umbreon or an espeon, but as soon as i realized i could get a jynx and that elsewise we're pretty hard up for good dark type gamers, i decided on umbreon and only leveling him at night. he definitely took a while, but god do i love my little baby boy... and he's strong! he was even strong by the end of his time as an eevee, an unreasonably powerful eevee because again, he was like level 47 or 48 when he finally evolved. but god damnit was he worth it. also, he evolved on the same night that trump got shot, so that happenstance is probably gonna live with me for the rest of my life. mint is my little gamer, and i love him with my life, and i wanna give him all the treats and pets in the world. he's literally perfect and i will not accept any criticism of him. and he's still technically my highest level guy, though the gap isn't that big anymore. he swept sabrina's gym, too! isn't he special... my precious little baby boy..... seriously just look up the gen 2 umbreon sprite he's cute as hell. again, not to sound cold but honestly i'm about as attached to him as i usually am to my starter, for what it's worth. he's my precious beast

[kmomof4]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Awwwwww!!! Thank you so much, my dear!!! And VERY sorry for the late reply… it has been A WEEK…

Five favorite fics… have to agree with Joni… that’s hard… I’ll probably have to take a page out of her playbook, too, and have some honorable mentions…

In no particular order…

The State of Emergency series- SoE was the second fic I ever wrote, inspired by the Tommy Lee Jones movie Volcano. At the time it was a pretty huge undertaking, and ended up being almost 18k words long! All the fics were soooo much fun to write, even with the addition of another natural disaster in Code White. I was just super happy with how the whole thing turned out.

Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates- This fic is one of my favorites because it was the first time I wrote something for my own event, the CS Supernatural Summer, and because of HOW HARD it was to write. It was the first time I wrote something COMPLETELY out of my own head- no inspiration whatsoever other than a vision of vampire Killian turning Emma- and it took me around seven full months of actively writing to complete it. It was also a lot of fun to include several characters that aren’t often used in fic. @hollyethecurious and @wistfulcynic were very nearly co-writers with me with everything they did to help me finish it.

In the Viper’s Den was written for the @cshistfic event. It’s one of my favorites because I think I did some of my very best writing in it. I’ve also been told by several people that it’s their favorite of my fics. That the action and the romance was very well balanced. It was inspired by the movie Shining Through staring Melanie Griffith and Michael Douglas. The movie is really great and I highly recommend it, but I was especially proud of two extra scenes I included that weren’t even suggested in the movie.

A Family Affair series. Probably not fair that a big series is among my favorites, but sorry, not sorry… I am soooooo STINKIN proud of these fics!!! Inspired by a romance series by Nora Roberts I read in high school, this series tells the love stories of 4 siblings, triplet sisters Emma, Regina, and Ruby, and their older brother David. I’ve had several folks ask for Regina and David’s story as CS fics, but I’m too happy with the stories as they are. And I have a Christmas addition in this universe just waiting for December to get here.

A Christmas Surprise was from a prompt by @gingerpolyglot return from military deployment. I still think it’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever written. It also has an addition ready and waiting for December to get here- the original fic in Killian’s pov and then going forward to their wedding day.

I know that’s five, but I have to include A Mistress to No One, bday fic for @hollyethecurious this year. There are so many things I love so much about this fic that make it a true favorite of mine rather than an honorable mention, not the least of which it’s based on my favorite of the Bridgerton series.

And now to the Honorable Mentions…

Cave Cruises, Cabin Capers, & Cracked Craniums: affectionately nicknamed CC3, this was a collaborative fic with @jrob64 @snowbellewells and @whimsicallyenchantedrose based on our girls vacay to Pigeon Forge earlier this summer.

Out of the Fire, Into Tomorrow: bday fic for @snowbellewells last year. Bar wench Emma Swan meets pirate captain Killian Jones and her life is changed forever.

Dream a Little Dream: bday fic for @jrob64 last year set in the Fairytales universe written by @kymbersmith-90. One of both mine and Joni’s very favorite fics.

Thank you so much for the ask, darlin!!!

To spread the self love, I’m gonna tag everyone mentioned above and anyone else who wants to do it!!!

[umichenginabroad]

Week 0: Sleep 0

Hi, my name is Alex Shamoun, a rising sophomore in Robotics. I am Michigan born and raised and I am very excited to be able to share my journey through Reykjavik, Iceland. Iceland is a very unique country in both geography and culture. Iceland being an island formed with a large amount of volcanic activity gives it both a geographic uniqueness and due to its separation from everyone else it was able to be culturally unique. Over these next 7 weeks I can’t wait to share what I get to learn and experience with you. 

Me getting my last bit of real sleep for the next 48 hours.

I will say that while Iceland may be a really nice destination to visit, packing to be here for 7 weeks was not fun. That comes from the fact that Iceland is cold and windy, but despite being from Michigan I don’t really know what I am going to be dealing with. I’ve mostly got a lot of sweaters and hoodies but I also have my fair share of graphic tees and UofM shirts. I spent multiple days packing and repacking just to try and make sure I am well prepared for whatever environments and situations confront me. I think I have enough stuff to where no matter what happens I will be good but who knows. What will I be able to wear or will I freeze? I will learn that and much more very soon. 

The mess that is trying to pack for Iceland and being unsuccessful in said venture.

I am writing part of this while at Reykjavik airport after landing from my overnight flight. We left DTW at 8:30 pm and it was a group of four of us UofM students on an Icelandair flight. I will say that Icelandair was kind of alright. The price was pretty good (when compared to Delta), however there was no meal for a 6 hour trans-Atlantic flight (you have to buy it). I ended up just eating some Kaleche(middle eastern pastry) I had packed with me to satiate my hunger. Once we got off the plane and got through customs we were met with our fabled guide for the next 7 weeks Christopher, and oh boy did he live up to the legends. 

The man, the myth, the legend: Christopher, keeping us entertained.

Christopher was foretold to us by the students of last year as a very eccentric and high energy man and for it being 6 am that was definitely true. He was up and active, telling dad jokes, speaking in a high energy voice and was tryna get us going and honestly it was working. This man actually worked miracles on us, while the jokes weren’t the best it was just the fact that we were able to talk and his energy was flowing into us just by being around him. Christopher was honestly one of the only things that got us through the morning and the airport.

On the drive over from the airport to our apartment we were able to actually see the volcano that is erupting. While we weren’t able to get too close, we were still able to see the smoke plume of toxic gas coming from the volcano. It was really interesting that it was just literally that close to the place we all flew into and that it was completely safe for us to  be there.

The volcanic plumes in the distance

After this we all got situated in our apartments and worked out details with roommates. The view from my apartment was absolutely fantastic. I’m in a 3 bedroom apartment where I thankfully have a single room. We have a balcony on the 4th floor and so you can see the Hallgrimskirkja church (extremely large lutheran church) (pictured at the end) over the heads of all the buildings and it’s really beautiful.

Everyone in the apartments after the drive, trying to stay awake while waiting for them to let us in.

We were given some free time in which we went to the grocery store ( of which I’ll probably talk more about next week) and just explored the city. In the end it was a lot of walking which I am going to be doing again tomorrow. To cap the day off and bring an end to probably hte most busy and tiring 24 hours of my life, we went to a really fancy restaurant called Loa. We had a magnificent 3 course meal. I had lamb soup, lamb shank, and (not lamb) chocolate cake. Iceland is known for its lamb and fish, and this was some really good and tender lamb. Honestly though, the chocolate cake was what really sold me on the meal, it was absolutely delicious and exactly the right amount of chocolate. 

This lamb shank was glazed in a sauce, cooked on top of mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. 

I have had a really busy day (i’ve been up all day and yesterday) so I am going to call it a night and send this off and report more of my journey later. Stay tuned and have a wonderful night.

The view from my window at 12:30 am, the sun never sets on Iceland, much like the British. The Hallgrimskirkja church is the tall tower that is pointing out of the skyline.

-Alex Shamoun

Robotics

Engineering in Reykjavik

[tobiasdrake]

And before we move on, another story time with Teaks in this lovely... moist hotel room.

Hey, there's three damp beds and five of us. How are we splitting this? Honestly, there's a lot of logical combinations but the important thing is that I get the bed down there in the corner. I called it. It's mine.

Anyways, story time. Tell me about the Docarri, Teaks.

The Tower of Whatsit? Oh, is that the big spire with the crystal on top of it? Yeah, I do get a "holy edifice" kind of vibe from it.

Lake Docarri's pretty far from the tower though. Did they get lost in the woods?

Hold up. Their visions weren't telling them to come here for any particular reason related to their society or culture, but rather to just. Like. Hang out so they can Walmart Greeter the Chosen Ones?

Is this fucking Mooncradle again? Is everyone on this planet charged with a sacred duty to shine my shoes and make breakfast for me in the morning?

Because I'm a narcissist and even I think that's a bit much.

Well, I just learned a new word.

Are you going to tell me that story within this one? Because I'm down for a two-for-one. What is the greatest battle of the Docarri people's history?

Oh no, I've played Overlord, those things are monsters. You wouldn't expect it but they are. I get it.

...hold up, we get treasure if we kill a giant sea slug? Shit, what are we sitting around here for? How tough can it be? It's a slug.

<.< >.> Right. No, uh. No looters around who can breathe underwater. The treasure is perfectly safe.

Does it say where the treasure is?

I think those historians make a fair point. Like. In order for it to be the Battle of Fate's Guyot, the guyot has to come into play somewhere, right? Wouldn't make sense to have a totally guyot-less story.

But on the other hand, just because there has to be a guyot somewhere, that doesn't necessarily mean it's used in the way you would expect.

Maybe that's what's behind the Solstice lock at Torment Peak. Someone in town mentioned that a great evil was imprisoned there, which is one of the things Elder Mist said we locked away in those Solstice vaults.

This makes me want to take another crack at Torment Peak. But if I can't open the lock, I can't unleash the great evil upon the world. That's a problem.

Okay so probably not the Solstice vault, then. That makes sense. Torment Peak's above water, so it'd be more of a proper volcano than a guyot.

Still. I'm gonna be having slug-guarded treasure dancing across my dreams tonight. As always, thanks for the story, Teaks. When we're stealing mildly slimy Docarri valuables before the merfolk know what happened, I'll be thinking of you.

[fire-type-breeding]

A Crash Course to Numel Breeding

All the time, I hear people who want to dabble in Fire type training but aren't into having a high-energy lifestyle. They want something more... subdued by their side. And I sure do have the 'mon for you!

Numel! They're Fire/Ground types, on account of the way they adapted to volcanic habitats. Fire resistance, limited terrakinesis... They're also extremely lazy 'mons though. Even the most hyper of Numel, and I've seen a few, will seem slow as a Sliggoo to anyone else. They're not exactly the brightest boys either. It's not a coincidence they got called the Numb Pokémon.

But if you're reading this, you probably already know all that crap. You're wondering, "Hey! Haruna, you breed Fire types! I don't know where to find a Numel. Can you breed one for me?" The answer to that is yes. At the Smoke Pit, we almost exclusively use older Numel to get more of 'em because Camerupt are too volatile. You can ask for me to breed yours, but you'll have to shell out some hazard pay.

When finally breeding 'em, I always make sure the parents are comfy cozy. I have this area called the volcano pen. Basically, you heat up a nice little pit filled with black sand that has igneous rock at the corners, put up some cover so they won't get wet from unexpected rain, and feed them a LOT. While they love the vegetation in their habitat best, they'll go wild for some grains, oats, and grass. Gotta make sure there's no hard bits in their food though, or they get pissy. I mean, I would too if something poked at my mouth.

You have to keep them super warm too, or they'll just cuddle instead. Learned that the hard way. If conditions are perfect, you'll get a nice little egg in a few days. If not? Mama will be pregnant for around, uh, 390 days.

Regardless of the method, baby Numel need to stay with their parents for a while. Eventually though, you'll be able to raise them on your own! You just have to wean them off milk carefully and make sure to fan them regularly. A young Numel can't regulate their body temperature too good yet, and magma is hot hot hot. Even when they grow up, don't touch their hump, but their head and belly? Fair game. Give them lots of love!

I gotta go feed the Numel here now. Peace.

[eflen-n-reegee]

Field Trip to the Museum of Science and Industry (Chicago, IL)

Hi hi! My family decided to get a membership to MSI, so here’s a little self-insert fic! As usual, the reader is an age regressor and the author is their caregiver. All pictures were taken by me. Brief mentions of Pompeii are included, just FYI. Hope you enjoy! :)

Alright kiddo, are you ready for the museum? You’re right, it’s not the one we usually visit - we’re going to the science museum today!

Alright, careful on the escalator… And here we are! What do you think? Yeah, it is a little noisy today. Are you okay? Of course we can take a break, whenever you need to. Now, what would you like- Oh, you’re right! Let’s look over there!

How do you think they got so many airplanes up on the ceiling? It must have been tricky… Yeah, maybe a crane!

Can you read what that sign up there says? Good job, ‘Queen of Speed’. I guess this train is pretty fast. Not as fast as my kiddo… I know I’m being silly, but you CAN be pretty quick.

Which do you like better, the big trains or the little ones? I think the little trains are pretty cool. And these models show trains traveling all over the country - look, Chicago’s over here!

Before we go see the Pompeii exhibit, come over here. I want to show you something… I know, they’re pretty cute, aren’t they? No, sorry sweetheart, you can’t pet them. But we can look at them and watch them playing.

Now, we’re not going to go to the other part of the exhibit today. Because the other part is a little scary. Pompeii was a city that was destroyed by a volcano, and the other part has a little movie about the eruption. I know you’re a brave kid, but I really don’t think we should go see it today. Maybe when you’re older, alright? Oh, don’t pout, silly bug. We can still look around here and see what Pompeii was like before it was destroyed. What do you think of the statue?

The weather exhibit has a lot of fun stuff - look, it’s a little tornado! Now tell me, what do we do if there’s a REAL tornado? Go to the basement, exactly! You’re so smart.

Here, turn this little prism and look there… Yes, you made the rainbow move! Good job, sweetie.

Alright, when the Tesla coil turns on, it’s going to be very loud. Are you ready? Three, two… Wow! Isn’t that neat? Look at the lightning!

Oh, there’s the plane we saw downstairs! I didn’t notice the people inside before. Mannequins? Are you sure? Well, if that’s what you say, it must be true!

What cool clothes. A coat that can bark, a dress that lights up… Oh wow, look at these neat backpacks! I wonder if we could find one for you…

The Idea Factory is quiet today. Would you like to go inside for a few minutes? No, I think it’s okay. Come on. Look at all the cool machines!

Ooh, I think I like this the best. See, when you press the button all these cool little things go up and then float down - like a giant sensory bottle!

I love the I Spy hallway! In every display, there’s a list of things to find… Look, a mad scientist! Think we can find all the hidden things in the lab?

Wow, this is a pretty cool farm, huh? Look at all the cows! I’m going to see if I can take you to a real farm sometime. Cows are beautiful animals, and it’d be great to see a real one up close.

Oh, this is my favorite part of the whole museum - the Fairy Castle. Isn’t it amazing? It’s like a giant, magical dollhouse…

Can I tell you a secret, sweetheart? The castle makes me a little sad. Well, because it’s so big and so cool, and I wish I could take it home and keep it. You’re right, that wouldn’t be fair - so many other people love it too, and they’d be sad if they couldn’t look at it anymore. But that’s still how I feel, and it’s okay. It’s always okay to feel things, you just have to be careful about what you do.

Ooh, this is pretty neat. This pendulum shows how the Earth is always spinning! It always swings in the same direction, but because the Earth is moving, it looks like the pendulum is moving!

Alright, I think it’s time we head home. Did you have a fun day, sweetheart? That makes me happy.

[angsty-violet]

The Honeymoon

Masterpost

The back of the car was cool. It was a nice contrast to the brutal humidity of Bangkok. Vegas had managed to put on a smile for the going away party, but as soon as the door was closed and he was safe behind the tinted window, it dropped.

Kinn placed a hand on Vegas’ knee. It was the only comfort he could afford while they were in earshot of the driver. It was guaranteed that he’d be reporting back to Korn, but his ability to look at them was minimal.

“Are you excited to see Hawaii?”

“Absolutely. I’m in favor of any place that has an active volcano.”

Kinn tightened his grip as a warning about whatever sarcastic comment he was going to say about throwing Kinn into a volcano. For a second, he was afraid that Vegas was going to go through with it, and the driver would make them turn around. However, Vegas picked up on the cue.

“I just love seeing them. They’re very neat.” His voice wasn’t remotely genuine, but that didn’t matter. All they needed to do was make it to the airport.

They boarded the plane, and Kinn felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. This jet was Kinn’s. The pilot, the staff, everybody was loyal to him and him alone. The bodyguards he’d be taking were his, too.

“Drink, princess?” he asked Vegas.

Vegas looked up at him from under his eyelashes and he was very becoming for a second. Then his face shifted to a sullen look, and he nodded.

“Wine, if you have it.”

“I have it.” Kinn poured him a glass and took a seat on the couch next to him.

Before they knew it, they were in the air and taking off. Kinn kept a hand on Vegas’ leg to try and reassure him. Vegas looked out the window as they took off, and the wrongness readily became apparent to him.

“We’re flying in the wrong direction,” Vegas informed him.

“I know. We aren’t going to Hawaii.”

Vegas looked surprised. “Where are we going?”

“Italy. Where most of your contacts are. This isn’t a vacation. You and I are going to be working.”

Vegas looked soft. “Thank you.”

Kinn looked confused. “For what?”

“For trusting me enough to work with me. For letting me back in even after all the minor family has done.”

“If anything, I should be thanking you. This isn’t fair to you, and you’ve done nothing that makes you deserve this.”

“Neither did you.”

Kinn smiled ruefully and thought that might not be true. He was supposed to be the head of the family, but he felt more like an errant child being married off for his own good. He was supposed to protect his family, and that included Vegas and Macau, but when had he ever?

“Well, none of that matters now. Let’s focus on doing what we have to get your father out of power. Did you bring our laptops?”

“Yes, here.” Kinn dug them out. Vegas was right. They had a lot of work to do.

“I’ll get us a hotel room.”

Vegas snorted. “I spend half my time in Italy, and you think I don’t have a suite of rooms?”

Kinn looked surprised. “Uh, I guess that makes sense.”

“You’re right. It does. I’ll get my regular car service to come and pick us up, and we can go there. Bring the bodyguards with us. Can’t hurt to have a little extra muscle.”

Kinn watched as a large SUV pulled up in front of their spot. A forgettable man got out and opened up the door.

They climbed in, and they were being whisked through the cramped, narrow streets. The building they pulled up to was very nondescript. The windows were all shuttered, and it looked half abandoned. As soon as they were through the door, Vegas was ordering the bodyguards to part of the house to keep watch.

“Once word gets around that I’m back in town, things might get interesting. Better to be prepared.”

Kinn raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “Where do you want to start?”

Vegas led him to a sitting room and started digging through some papers on a desk. “There are a few families I’d like to get in contact with. Not just Italians. I’ve got a number of European contacts I can start to rebuild my alliances with. Hopefully, they’ll understand my recent silence. I can probably argue that my father’s death has delayed a lot of the work I was doing.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Vegas flipped through the papers. “Yes, in the second-floor hallway, there’s a vent with my ledger in it. It has all of the names I didn’t want my father to know about in it. Will you get it for me?”

Kinn nodded and headed to the stairs. The place was dusty but clean, besides that. He walked up and down the hall, scanning the floorboards for the vent. When he reached the other end, he frowned and looked around. While he was doing so, he noticed that the went was actually just under the ceiling, not on the floor.

It came off with a little pulling and released a cloud of dust into the hallway. However, there, just like Vegas had said, was a small red ledger. Kinn pulled it down and started to flip through it.

However, that was an exercise in futility. The notebook was written in English, and although Kinn spoke it very well, he had never gotten the hang of the alphabet. Vegas was likely the only one in the family who could read it well enough to use it on a daily basis. Which meant if it was found, they’d have to hire a translator before they could know what was in it. Very clever.

Kinn had a moment of indecision where he seriously considered burning the small notebook. Who knew what was in it and Vegas might use it to destroy Kinn.

Then, it was gone. If they were going to survive this, they needed to trust each other, and Kinn needed to be the one to lead. They would get nowhere if all they had was suspicion. So, he headed back down the stairs and into the office.

“Here it is.” Kinn handed Vegas the ledger, who immediately began paging through it and writing down names. “Do you have a plan?”

Vegas looked up from the ledger, and Kinn discovered that he had put on a pair of glasses. Kinn found himself speechless and slightly turned on. He looked so cute in his little pair of glasses, and they softened his face. Vegas looked like his actual age instead of a horny 40-year-old in a 20-year-old’s body, like normal. He looked like someone that Kinn needed to protect.

Kinn could admit that he had a hero complex. He could admit that it turned him on to shower his lovers with gifts and treasures. To keep them tucked away and safe from the world. He had always assumed that his lover would be someone who needed a lot of help. Financially or otherwise, someone who needed Kinn.

So, for Vegas to look like someone needed to tuck him into bed was making Kinn start to stiffen.

“Yes. The real thing we need to wrest power from your father is legitimacy. We need the backing of our allies. Killing or removing him is the easy part. We need to ensure that they recognize that we’re the new heads of the family. Especially since my father is dead, but no new head was appointed, and Korn favors Kim, not you, as the successor for the family.”

Kinn flinched at the way Vegas described it so plainly. It was true that the two of them were basically just tools to be used. Vegas would never be allowed to take on the heritage he had spent his entire life building, and Kinn was just a grunt to order around.

Vegas inspected him. “Sorry, that must take some getting used to.”

“No, it’s fine. I should’ve known much earlier that he favored Kim as his successor, and I was a fool to think he’d ever entrust the business to me. He’s always just used me as a figurehead. Someone attractive, charismatic, and, above all else, obedient. Just another pawn on his board.”

“Well, I think it’s time we throw his stupid chessboard out the fucking window and get him to stop treating us all like we’re just toys.”

Kinn smiled. “I agree, princess. Now, what do you need help with?”

Vegas scowled at the name but continued. “Okay, I’m going to go through my ledger and start with the names of the people that can help the most. I’ll tell you their name and phone number, and you can write it down in Thai to make things smoother.”

“Got it.” Kinn pulled out a pen and paper and waited patiently.

“Okay, first off is Mariana, and her number is….”

Kinn rubbed the grit from his eyes and sighed. The warehouse had been dusty, and the wind had kicked enough of it into the air that he felt like they were full of sand.

The meeting had gone well, and for the first time in his life, Kinn understood why his father was afraid of what Vegas could do.

He was charming, true, but that was only a part of it. He had coaxed, flattered, encouraged and threatened each of the three Dons they had met with so well, you almost couldn’t tell. He used the perfect concoction of smoothness and strength, enough charm and power to make them see reason. To accept that whether or not Korn wanted him to, Vegas was taking over the Minor Family.

And what had originally been a downside, Kinn’s weak position, suddenly became a strength. No longer was he the figurehead of the main family, a puppet for the head. Now, he was the husband of the head of the minor family, another of Vegas’ stolen treasures.

Vegas spun up a tale of star-crossed lovers who had finagled an arrangement. Determined to use their joined background to get both of their birthrights.

Kinn was amazed to watch him do it. He knew that Vegas was seductive, but he managed to convince the Dons that replacing Korn was basically their idea. They were so intelligent to encourage out with the old and in with the new. Vegas and Kinn would be fools not to go along with their idea.

That wasn’t the only thing that amazed Kinn. Vegas had contacted a series of Mafia leaders with a pitch, and a number of them had just…accepted it. They didn’t care either way, but they were familiar enough with Vegas to support his bid for power.

Now, they were settling into bed. For rumor’s sake, in both Italy and Thailand, they were sharing the master bedroom.

Vegas had changed into soft-looking sweatpants and a cotton t-shirt. Kinn had packed silk pajamas and felt a little overdressed, even though he preferred them.

Vegas had those cursed glasses back on as he read through several papers. Kinn slid into bed and hoped that Vegas wouldn’t notice his half-chub.

“Where was that when we really needed it?” Vegas asked without looking up from what he was working on.

Kinn glared at him. “It’s polite to not say anything.”

Vegas huffed out a laugh. “When am I ever polite? Especially to you. Not to mention that I think we’re long past needing that now that we’re legally married.”

“Probably,” Kinn conceded.

Vegas laughed again and set his things on the nightstand. “Here, let me help you.”

Kinn caught Vegas’ hand before it could make contact with his cock. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, princess.”

Vegas leaned over into Kinn’s personal space and breathed softly. “Really? Because the way I see it, I’m the only one you’ll ever get to pay this kind of attention to. So you might as well accept my offer and let me take care of you.”

Kinn hesitated and then relented. “Okay, but just this once.”

Vegas smiled. “Whatever you say.”

[brightoakgame]

If a friend somehow roped each LI into babysitting their kid for a night... How would that pan out??? 👀 Who's a 10/10 babysitter and who's setting the kitchen on fire?

Bahahahahahaha!

John: The house is a disaster: the kitchen's a welter of dirty dishes, the couch flipped over to make a fort, toys everywhere, and there is inexplicably peanut butter on all surfaces child-height and lower. That said, the kiddo is in bed asleep, worn out from playing, and did at least eat something-- probably cookies-- for dinner. John is snoring in an armchair, also worn out. Everyone had a good time, and kid would like Sheriff John to be the go-to sitter from here on.

Marybeth: The house is in much the same state it started in, because Marybeth would not allow the child to make a mess or deviate from a set area for play. They had well-balanced dinner, and she sent them to bed half an hour early. The child would really prefer you didn't ask Doctor Forster to babysit again; she gets mad a lot.

Patti: 10/10, objectively the best of the bunch. The house is spotless, the kid is in bed asleep, dinner was delicious (with leftovers in the fridge, even), there were two cookies for dessert, they played the clean-up game together, bathed, brushed teeth, the works. The child adores Tía Patti. Strangely, though, it seems Patti is busy anytime she's asked to babysit in the future.

Sparrow: The child is still wide awake, because they have found that Sparrow is an inexhaustible reader. They have been reading the whole time, and all storybooks are pulled off the shelves and scattered around the house. Dinner was cereal or granola bars. The child will not sleep for several hours more, because Sparrow also let them drink black tea with honey. In the coming days, it will be discovered the child has suddenly acquired a wealth of new opinions concerning the patriarchy and authority figures.

Jasper: Uh, well... Jasper meets you at the door with a lightbulb. It belongs to the child's lamp. They wouldn't go to sleep and kept turning on the light, so he removed it. He then sat down in front of the open door as a sentry, keeping the child in and undefined (but feared) potential bad guys out. He remained sitting in the gloom for forty-three minutes. They're asleep now. Dinner was a catastrophe, in his opinion, as the child could not be left to their own devices, so he set them to work writing down all the steps that went into preparing the meal. They drew pictures of unidentifiable monsters instead, which annoyed him, but at least he was able to finish cooking. Unsure what else to do with the child, they built a science-fair volcano on the dining room table, where it remains, faintly smoking. Jasper will not say it, but he was an anxious wreck the entire time. Surprisingly, child thinks Mister Doctor Jasper is the bees' knees (✨VOLCANOS✨), and begs to have him back next time, too.